


Enjoy your Slay

by Courtanie



Category: South Park
Genre: Blood and Gore, Drug Abuse, F/M, Haunting, M/M, Murder, Overdosing, Supernatural Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5637280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtanie/pseuds/Courtanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a group of our favorite kids head off on a road trip after graduation, all seems to be par for the course. That is until a stop at a isolated hotel has them all fighting for their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Corny title for a corny story. This is going to be like one of those horror movies you find at Walmart in a DVD set of twelve movies for five bucks. (I have so many of those it's not even funny oh lord help me)
> 
> Warnings: (possible but not likely) noncon. (There'll be an additional super obvious warning if such is the case.) Definite warnings for violence, drug/OD'ing references, blood, torture, and lots of squeamish things to follow. There is your warning list, Kiddos. Should I add more along the way, you will be informed.
> 
> Now. Enjoy~

There was one clear word that rang through the group as the setting July sun followed them on their journey on the road: _Freedom_. Perhaps it was a tad cliche, all eleven of them smiling to themselves and talking amongst each other in their two separate vehicles as they trekked along the countryside. After all, what overtly typical 'coming of age' story _didn't_ include fresh faced, newly graduated teens on a road trip? It was that last taste of honest-to-god _childish_ independence before the waves of adulthood began to crest over them. Internships, jobs, potential scholarships, all pushed to the side for just this month. Worrisome parents had all been texted to be informed of their safety, essentials had been packed and stored safely in the back of the minivan following the rusted pickup truck, and _everything_ had been planned to the smallest detail. Wendy and Kyle were more than happy to put their resourceful skills to use in the weeks prior, making an action notebook consisting of their steps from everything from a blown-out tire to running out of Tweek's constant supply of home-ground coffee.

But disasters seemed few and far between, so far the only issue they'd ran into being Butters buying the wrong flavor of Doritos and getting slapped over the head by their resident fatass. A quick, overpriced four dollars and fifty cent fix was all that'd been taken to avoid such a 'crisis', and all seemed to flow as nature intended; steady yet ever-changing as they drove angled towards the eventide horizon.

Stan sighed tiredly, cracking his neck, fingers flexing along the worn plastic of his Broncos steering wheel cover. His fingers traced over the elevated 'XXXII, XXXIII CHAMPIONS' that'd dug indentations into the pads of his digits over the last several hours. He looked beside him to see Wendy casually scrolling through her phone, chin resting in her palm and bouncing one leg atop the other.

"Anything good?" he asked casually, wishing to check his own phone but knowing well enough that if Kyle happened to look and caught sight of him distracted by a tiny screen, he'd be in for yet _another_ hour-long lecture of 'it only takes a second to crash, Stanley'.

She looked back at him and shrugged, "Bebe says that Craig and Tweek are arguing."

"Again?" he rolled his eyes.

The girl chuckled and nodded, grabbing a plum scrunchie from around her wrist and expertly weaving her hair into a high-placed messy bun. "Something about Craig trying to slow down the coffee consumption."

He sighed, blowing a chunk of bangs from his eye. "Well I mean, it _would_ be nice to not have to stop every two hours so he can piss." She laughed, nodding in agreement.

Wendy reached over, weaving their fingers together under the gearshift as the both of them stared off into the distance with hazy eyes. "I'm really glad you convinced me to come," she said softly.

He glanced over and gave her a smirk, " _Way_ better than some internship at the lab, isn't it?"

"You do realize you _did_ set Kyle and I back a good deal taking us from our work, right?" she said dryly, not quite _enjoying_ her boyfriend's nonchalance at pushing the both of them from their goals for just a tad longer.

Stan squeezed her fingers, "Look, me and Ken didn't wanna lose you two right out the gates, all right?" he shrugged. "Besides, you two were ripping your hair out. A good month to breathe will getcha ready before you guys are adulting so hard Kenny and I are left standing there just watching you run around," he rolled his eyes amusedly. She gave a small scoff, but couldn't help the tiny smile creeping up her lips. It was beyond true, the two of them had been driving Stan and Kenny crazy with their hectic schedules, setting up double dates nonstop just so they could compare notes and figure out where to go with their respective career paths. This road trip had been their boyfriends' idea, taking a few good months during the last semester of school to convince them that it was 'for their health'. Kyle and Wendy weren't stupid, it was less 'for them' and more for their needy boyfriends' goddamn dicks. However, eventually after getting coffee and talking it out with each other, they'd reached the conclusion from Wendy's beginning grey hair and Kyle's unstable insulin from the overwhelming stress that maybe a little bit of a breather before life started was warranted. They'd more than earned it.

"Besides," Stan's voice perked back up, a bit of annoyance lingering in his tone. "That's a month more for the _animals_ to survive."

" _Oh my god_ ," she rolled her eyes with a groan. "How many _fucking_ times do I have to tell you, chemical engineering is _not_ dumping oil into the ocean, Stanley!"

He twisted his lips, the disapproval and disbelief ringing clearly on his broad profile. "Uh huh."

She crossed her arms and raised a brow at him, "You _remember_ that _you_ are the one here who eats meat, right?"

"Well _excuse me_ for not wanting to be a walking vagina!"

"Too late for that," Cartman's voice broke through with a snort. They both rolled their eyes and sighed, squeezing each other's fingers just a little tighter. They had this argument constantly, and Wendy was far past the point of convinced that Stan just wouldn't _understand_ until she was finally put to work a good ten fucking years down the road. She rolled her eyes to herself amusedly. At least she wasn't in poor Kyle's position, where Kenny did nothing but whine about how 'he didn't _need_ an internship for physiology, he could just study Kenny's body all he wanted'.

Butters looked between the group, settling on Cartman and pursing his lips. "Now Eric, that ain't nice of ya."

The brunette looked at him dryly, "Because that's _so_ my schtick, Butters."

"Well I'm just sayin' is all," he mumbled, crossing his arms and shifting, glancing out the window to watch the world pass by through the back country roads. "Where are we, Stan?"

"Somewhere in Wyoming," he shrugged, glancing around at the desolate area surrounding them. It was nearly eighty degrees despite the setting sun, the shoddy air conditioner doing little more than giving occasional bursts of icy streams whenever it damn well felt like it. He glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing a red and a blonde head facing away from him and pursing his lips. "See how they're doin'," he instructed Butters.

Wendy nodded in agreement, grabbing a bottle of Mountain Dew and a water bottle from the cooler at her feet and handing them back to the blonde. "Make sure they're hydrated," she added.

Butters awkwardly shifted in his seatbelt, sliding the back window of the cab to the roar of the wind passing through the bed. "Hey, Fellas!" he greeted cheerfully. Kenny and Kyle turned from their blanketed seat and blinked at him.

"What?" Kenny snapped, obviously displeased with the interruption.

Butters shied down instantly, reading the frustration with ease. "Just wanted t' know if you two needed us t' stop or nothin'," he mumbled.

Kyle looked between his irritated boyfriend and the nerve-struck blonde, giving Butters a small, forced smile. "We're good," he informed him, taking the bottles hanging from his hands and nodding. "Thanks, Butters. Can you close the window again, please?"

"Sure," he nodded, stealing another glance at Kenny's death-stare and gulping. He quickly slid the window back shut and turned in his seat, the both of them watching him duck down in fright.

Kyle sighed, "Dude, don't take this out on Butters."

"He's the easiest fucking target," Kenny said snidely, swiping his Mountain Dew and angrily unscrewing the cap. Kyle watched as he took a couple long, heavy gulps, quietly going to work on his own bottle.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Kenny glanced at him, shoulders sinking before he straightened back up and cleared his throat, popping the green plastic from his lips with a resounding sound over Stan's truck. "For what? For _lying_ to me?"

Green eyes flickered up, remorse instantly replaced with frustration. " _Excuse me_?" he demanded. "I didn't _lie_ about a goddamn thing! You just _assumed_ that-"

"That I came first? Yeah, I fuckin' _did_ ," he bit, Kyle cringing in the slightest. "So, when were ya plannin' on tellin' me? A week before you left or right before you got in the goddamn car?" he snapped.

He sighed, scratching through his hair, "I didn't _know_ when to tell you. I was...working on it," he winced.

Kenny scoffed, shaking his head angrily. Unbelievable. Fucking _unbelievable._ "Would it be like you 'working on it' to tell me ya loved me?" he asked dryly, both of them staring at each other and remembering all at once Kyle bouncing around the words for well over seven months after Kenny had said the phrase that now flowed so smoothly off both their tongues.

The redhead gulped, "Ken, look, I'm _really_ sorry," he said earnestly. "But Boston is the _best_ place for me to get all of this going," he waved dismissively.

"What happened to 'oh, I'll find somewhere in Boulder so we'll only be a few hours away from each other, I'll come see you on weekends'?" he mocked. "Did ya just _forget_ that I existed during applications or _what_?"

He glared, "No, I was _thinking about my future!"_ he yelled. "I got accepted into a great school, why the _fuck_ wouldn't I swipe that opportunity?!"

"Why wouldn't you tell _me_ about it?!" he demanded. "Because you _knew_ I'd be against it?!"

"YES!" he bit, instantly backing away and folding in his lips, watching Kenny's face fall. His fucking short temper always did this to him; how he hadn't learned to control it by now, he'd never know. He blamed Jersey. He groaned, taking a long sip of his water and smacking his lips, daring to take another glance at his boyfriend's pitiful face. The blonde's entire anger-fueled posture had fallen, eyes dropped down to stare at the cheap plastic clutched in his hands. The redhead scratched his curls, a deep-seated _hatred_ of himself percolating to the surface. He knew he shouldn't have brought up school, but he fucking did anyway. Fighting with himself for _months_ about telling Kenny of his plans just bubbled right the fuck over, and he couldn't have picked a worse time to do it as they remained trapped in the bed of Stan's truck.

Kenny looked at him and narrowed his eyes at the sympathy on that slender face. "After _four fucking years_ , I'd _think_ you'd fucking care enough to tell me," he said lowly.

"After _four fucking years_ ," he mocked, "it's really _hard_ for me, too..." he paused, shoulders sinking. "We can make it work," he said.

"You _really_ think _we_ can do a long distance thing?" he said dryly. "Ky, you were on vacation for _a week_ last year and we were out of our fucking minds."

He paused, shifting uncomfortably, "The Skype sex was fun?" he forced a smile through a wince. Kenny stayed silent, just watching him with that anger still smoldering in those usually light blue eyes. Kyle bit his lip, carefully scooting himself in front of Kenny and pushing his bent-up knees apart, sitting between them and staring at the blonde thoughtfully. "Come with me," he offered.

Kenny raised his brow, "Excuse me?"

"I'll get an off-campus apartment, I'm sure I can work something out," he murmured, knowing full and well that it was typically forbidden for freshmen to do such a thing at this particular university, but all it took was some well placed bills to change some minds. "We can go and I'll hit up my paid internship and there's _plenty_ of jobs in the area for you to find," he continued. "We can just live out there. _Together_ ," he emphasized.

Kenny blinked slowly, letting his brain wrap around the concept, thumb fiddling with the loose corner of his soda label. "Thought you didn't _want_ to be a domesticated couple."

"Look, I wouldn't mind constant access to your dick, all right?" he said wryly, getting a small smirk out of the blonde that instantly set his mind at ease with the idea. "And that was like, two years ago, Dude," he reminded him. "You know, when we were fucking _sixteen_ and that kind of thinking was ridiculous," he rolled his eyes.

The blonde nodded a bit, taking a deep breath through his nose. "What about Karen, though?" he murmured. Kyle paused, watching the debate beginning to cloud those bright eyes yet again. For nearly three years Kenny had been working to make sure his little sister got her food and what she needed for school, unable to rely on his parents or older brother to make the sacrifice themselves. He was the only source of income in the small shack of a home, they all _counted on him_.

He sighed, biting his lip. "I have about $3000 in savings. We can send her some of that every month or something and keep adding on to it with whatever we get with jobs... You may have to get two though..." he trailed off, wincing to himself. Well it _seemed_ like a good idea in the heat of the moment. Leave it to Kenny to pull the heartstrings and make things more complicated in a matter of seconds. "I mean, _maybe_ I can convince my parents to help pay for the apartment until we get on our feet," he shrugged. "They love you, I doubt they'd mind the idea of _you_ being my roommate... Ma's been terrified that I might end up sharing a dorm with someone who'd murder me for drug money anyhow," he smirked a bit. Kenny sighed, letting his mind continue to stew. This was _a lot_ to consider all at once, despite how _excited_ he'd been about potential plans to grab an apartment in _Colorado_ for the two of them to share. Moving across the country, though? Not exactly the McCormick way. "Besides, we'll live on the outskirts of Boston, it'll be a bit cheaper," Kyle continued. "Think about all the sights we could see together!" he smiled excitedly.

Kenny looked up, seeing those green eyes glittering with the prospect of sharing such times with him and he chuckled. "Museum tours ain't my thing, Ky," he reminded him.

"But watching me walk around naked in our own place could be," he raised his brow in challenge. He watched a spark flicker through those conflicted eyes, a grin spreading on Kenny's handsome face. He leaned forward, kissing his lips tenderly. "Please?" he asked, adding that little whiny tone that he knew _always_ got him his way in the end.

A hand snapped up, threading through his curls and pulling his head back a bit to tip him further up towards Kenny's face. The blonde smiled, kissing him back and sighing against his lips, nodding softly. "Sure you can handle living with me?"

"Let's be real here, we pretty much already _do_ ," he reminded him. "My family sets a goddamn place for you every night at dinner and you have half my clothes in your closet," he rolled his eyes amusedly. Kenny chuckled, pulling him back up and sealing the prospect with another sweet, long-lived kiss.

Clyde watched them from over his dashboard as he drove, shaking his head to himself. He'd thought himself _lucky_ to not have to watch the two of them making out for the last hour and a half, but it seemed they were right back to where they started the moment the cars left Token's driveway. _'So long as clothes stay on I guess,'_ he thought tiredly. His eyes hit his rearview mirror, twisting his lips with the hope that _others_ kept their clothes on, too. Bebe and Token were getting _awfully_ handsy in the far backseat. "Hey, keep it PG, kids," he scolded.

The two of them broke apart from their tongues winding around each other and frowned at the driver. "Who the fuck asked _your_ opinion?" Token bit.

"The one that's going to switch you out for Butters if you don't keep your damn pants on," he snapped. "I'd rather _not_ have to clean your jizz from my mom's car. _Again_ ," he added bitterly.

"Oh _one time_ ," Bebe drawled, brushing disheveled hair out of her eyes and crossing her arms in a pout.

Clyde rolled his eyes, "Look, it's bad enough I have to watch the horny orange assholes the whole way there, I _don't_ need to add you two to my 'viewing pleasure'," he scoffed.

"Ken and Ky at it again?" Bebe smiled wickedly, peeking from between the headrests and a disinterested Tweek and Craig to look up front, seeing Kenny shoving Kyle down onto the truck bed and falling on top of him with a devilish smirk she could read even from here.

"Oh _god_ ," Clyde groaned, grabbing his phone and quickly finding Wendy's number. He held it to his ear, muttering to himself as it rang.

" _Yes, Clyde?"_ she answered tiredly.

"Tell your ride-alongs in the back that they don't have to incorporate _every_ kind of ride into this trip," he growled. " _Some of us_ don't like distractions while we fucking drive," he hung up, throwing the phone down onto the empty passenger seat, taking a long breath through his nose. He watched as Butters timidly opened the back window, face blanching right off as he mumbled something to the two of them. Kenny popped up, shoving him back in and slamming the pane shut. He turned to look at Clyde's group, smirking and grabbing a half naked Kyle by the arm and hauling him up. The Jew went bright red, looking down awkwardly as Kenny wriggled his brows at the spectators, tonguing over his teeth and giving a few _demonstrating_ pelvic thrusts before shoving Kyle back down and going at him again.

"Those two need neutered," Craig said dryly, leaning his chin into the hand not currently entangled with Tweek's. "Pretty sure the friction is going to make their dicks fall off one of these days."

Clyde nodded in agreement, "And on that day, we will _celebrate_." He watched as Butters and Cartman held up a blanket against the back pane, shaking his head. They were practically _encouraging them_ at this point. Given...few things managed to _discourage_ them.

"Aw, come onnn," Bebe waved them off dismissively. "So they got some fire goin'. Ain't nothin' wrong with that," she grinned.

Craig turned back to look at her, lips twisted. "You're only saying that because _you_ got them together, Stevens."

The blonde grinned, flipping curly hair off her shoulder. "I mean that _is_ a perk considering they both buy me lunch all the time," she chuckled. Four years after shoving them both into a janitor's closet and locking the door and she was _still_ getting thank you cards and boastful stories of the redhead's legendary ass from Kenny along with gift cards to Harbucks with shy tales of Kenny's technique from Kyle. Hooking up blithering, oblivious friends _definitely_ had its benefits. "Besides, Clyde, _you're_ just jealous because Annie's not here."

"Well, it _does suck_ that I'm one of the only people here _without someone_ ," he growled, fingers clenching around his steering wheel. His girlfriend telling him she'd 'rather live on a farm then spend an entire month with his band of renegade, horny buddies' hadn't exactly settled _well_ on him. She was far from uppity, but she just couldn't _stand_ the lot of them together, particularly Stan's gang. Stan's consistent Greenpeace speeches drove her up the wall, Kenny and Kyle's incessant need to defile every piece of furniture they could find grated on her nerves, and Cartman...well, he was Cartman. That one Clyde could jump right on the bandwagon with. But now, he was _his group's_ Cartman along with the stowaway Butters. The three of them were the single men stuck in a collective group of groping and moaning and kisses and saucy whispers. It wasn't exactly the time of his life, but it beat dealing with his father and stepmother. At least he fucking hoped, though so far it wasn't seeming that way.

Tweek caught Kenny's naked back peeking from the top of the bed time and again and he frowned, "Aren't they worried they're gonna get caught?!"

"They had sex _on a squad car_ once," Token reminded him, looping his arm around Bebe's shoulders and pulling her in closely. "I _really_ doubt they give too many shits."

"And Kyle can sweet-talk out of anything," Bebe chuckled. "Not _everyone_ is as prudish as Stan and Wends, ya know."

"There's a difference between prudish and _decent_ ," Craig rolled his eyes. "Besides, not fair to compare a regular couple to _whores_ ," he gestured towards them.

She scoffed, "Oh, _lighten up,_ boys!" she protested. "Just because _you_ have blue balls doesn't mean _everyone_ should."

Token looked at her and raised his brow, "Why do I have this feeling that you have a _video_ of the two of them with the way you're talking?"

She chuckled, "I _wish_." Token pouted and she shrugged. "Kyle has a nice ass and Ken has a nice chest. So _sue me_ ," she drawled.

"Nice to know my girlfriend is into _gay guys_ ," he rolled his eyes. "Should I be freaking out that Craig and Tweek are here?" he gestured to the two of them who looked behind them to watch Bebe with cocked brows.

"Don't tempt me now," she teased, shooting them a wink.

"Oh Jesus," Tweek muttered, hiding his face in his hand.

Craig shook his head, squeezing the jittery blonde's hand pointedly. "Knock it off, Stevens."

"I'm kidding!" she laughed. "Trust me, I'm _far_ from interested in your bland ass, Craig," she informed him. "And Tweek, I wouldn't be able to tell if he's cumming or just spazzing out and where's the fun in that?"

Tweek's cheeks burst with color as Craig's straight-lined face turned sour on a dime. "I _said_ knock it off," he warned through his teeth.

Bebe shrugged sheepishly, "Sorry, Tweek. That wasn't cool of me."

He looked at her with fleeting hazel eyes and shrugged back jerkingly. "It's fine," he muttered. "Everyone else gets made fun of...I can't be the exception...right?" he winced.

"Yes, you can," Craig said firmly, shooting the girl another scalding glare. "Because you're the only _blonde in this car_ who doesn't live for spreading their legs."

"Hey!" she snapped.

Token leaned forward, glaring daggers at the noirette, "Remember which one of us can bench-press more, Tucker," he cautioned.

"Knock it off, all of you!" Clyde snapped, beating his skull against his headrest. "I'm not dealing with this couples-at-war bullshit, all right?! Or we're switching cars so _no_ couples can be in the same goddamn vehicle!"

Bebe looked up through the windshield, smirking at Kenny pulling Kyle up into a kiss over the edge of the bed, watching Kyle throw his head back, mouth agape and the blonde going after his neck. "Good luck prying _them_ apart. I _think_ they're kinda stuck together right now," she observed.

He groaned, honking repeatedly at the couple and they slowly turned their heads at the disruption. Kenny flipped them off, Kyle following suit with Clyde, Craig, and Token returning the favor. Kenny whipped Kyle around with his back towards them and shoved him down, raising his brow in challenge, purposefully keeping himself upright to show his hips pressing down time and again, eyes flickering between Kyle's sprawled form and the group trailing them. "Oh for _fuck's sake_ ," Clyde sighed exhaustedly.

"Okay, but, you _have to admit_ that Kenny keeping that up in a moving truck is talent," Bebe pointed out.

"Not like it's the interstate," Token grumbled, ego feeling smashed at the recollection of a sneaky rendezvous between the both of them months before where he ended up smashing Bebe's head against a console as a bump startled them both, ruining all hints of any continuation. Bebe chuckled, kissing his cheek to calm his dying pride and he smiled at her crookedly.

Tweek sighed, fingers nervously twitching against Craig's as he took a sip from his thermos, doing his best to ignore his boyfriend's unimpressed stare at grabbing for the coffee once again. "When are we stopping for the night?"

"Whenever either Stan or I gets tired," he shrugged. "First one has to call the other and Wendy'll find the closest hotel." The brunette shook his head, "But next time _we_ get to be the first car."

"Agreed," Craig, Token, and Tweek replied monotonously. They watched with raised brows as Kenny practically collapsed down from his position out of their sight before raising back up with hands clutched around Kyle's panting form, both of them kissing and touching in a disgustingly _innocent_ fashion considering their current circumstance. Clyde shook his head, turning his attention to the license plate of Stan's truck and taking a long sip of his Pepsi, just _praying_ for his eyelids to start drooping soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Another stifled yawn slipped between Clyde's lips and he groaned. It was only ten o'clock, but driving for nine hours straight through nothing but wheat fields and desert didn't make for entertainment. The fact that he'd made it this long with nothing but Kenny and Kyle's _endeavors_ to take away from the gently winding roads of Colorado and Wyoming was nothing short of impressive. He knew well enough that a silent challenge had been placed in front of him by Stan; their typical battle of machismo outweighing common sense. First to crack with exhaustion was the pussy of the night.

Clyde really didn't care at this point. Watching Kyle come up for air from Kenny's dick for the third time in four hours was enough to grate on _anyone's_ nerves. He glanced behind him, seeing Tweek and Token slumbering quietly on their significant others' shoulders, Craig and Bebe looking out the window in silence. He nodded to himself, snagging his phone from the seat beside him and slamming in Wendy's name again.

" _Yes?"_ she answered with a yawn.

"Tell Stan I give. Find us a hotel."

" _Oh thank god,"_ she murmured. _"Already did. We'll take the next right turn, there's a hotel about half a mile in off another turn. Just stay close."_

"Gotcha," he nodded, hanging back up and sighing. He scratched through his hair, eyes lazily scanning over the empty landscape of the quiet state road. Maybe to any other group of kids, this would be almost unsettling, but _nothingness_ was a part of life to South Park. Homegrown in shitty, half-tilled soil and breaking through barren ice into a boring life was nothing new. Nothing wrong with small town roots, as they'd grown to accept, but there was _definitely_ reason that the majority of those heading off towards higher education within a few months were looking at universities smack dab in the hustle and bustle of the city.

Denver, San Antonio, Sacramento, Boston, Chicago; all map points that meant little to nothing to so many people, but the _prospect_ of these new destinations meant the _world_ to the eleven podunk-raised teens. Promises had already been made between the lot to send the others souvenirs from their respective havens and to keep their phones on them in case city life was more overwhelming than previously expected. It was the same _every_ group of friends made in the final hours of their hometown camaraderie, but even they knew that the chances of every single one of them keeping in contact was slim to none. Couples might stick despite the odds, and the pairings of 'best friends' had a higher success rate to lean on, but those brought together by six degrees of separation had little to no chance in the long run. For this month, however, the saccharine lie was good enough, trying not to think that the next time they'd bond would be an awkward meeting at their graduation's tenth anniversary reunion where they'd tell stories of broken condoms and failed degrees; Where their generation would still be saying 'my apartment is all right, plumbing doesn't always work, though' as they neared their thirties and laughing bitterly at those old dreams they had of all being home-owning, married adults still swinging through the prime of their lives as opposed to spawning grey hairs and crow's feet already.

But that could all be shoved aside for at least just now; and they could focus on nothing more than each other and the country being subject to their whim. Clyde watched with an amused smirk as Stan took the next right and Kenny and Kyle, innocently unaware of the course as their faces remained locked on each other's, slid to the side of the truck with the sharp turn with shouts of surprise. He observed them scrambling up and holding onto the edge of the bed, Kenny beating against the back pane and yelling at him to aim for a damn _warning_ next time. Cartman popped his head out, a clear sneer on his face in the bright moonlight guiding them through the desert. Kyle and Ken were silent and still for a moment while he rambled before a slender fist flew back and into his cheek. The clear sound of the typical " _FUCKING JEW!"_ rang even over the torrent of wind gusting through Clyde's cracked window.

He shook his head, watching as Butters and Kenny did their best to pull apart the two trying to rip each other's hair out. He chuckled as Stan jerked the car to the side and back onto the course, inertia ripping the boyfriends away from the window and sliding to the other side of the truck, Butters making quick work to shut and lock the pane once again. Kyle yelled nonsense at the cab, Kenny petting through his hair and kissing his neck to calm him down. He eventually bristled, but settled down against Kenny's chest with his arms crossed, allowing the blonde to pepper him with affection and tame the storm if only for a moment.

"They're so fucking disgusting," Craig scoffed after a few moments of watching their mushy display.

"Right?" the brunette agreed.

Bebe rolled her eyes amusedly, "They're cute, leave 'em be. They're not hurting anyone. Well, except Cartman but no one has complaints against _that_."

"...True," Clyde muttered in agreement. "May wanna wake up the other two."

"No need," Token grumbled, opening an eye lazily. "Cartman woke me up."

"Same," Tweek yawned, automatically groping around for his thermos. Craig rolled his eyes, indulging him for the moment and handing him back the previously-denied bitterness. Tweek smiled sweetly at him before delving his entire being into enjoying the roasted aroma kept warm by the thick Teavana mug his boyfriend had so generously given him last Christmas. His fingers drummed against the opaque plastic coating, hazel eyes flickering around the empty sights. "Where're we going now?"

Clyde yawned again, "Hotel. I finally caved."

"Well thank you for not letting your man-penis be so stubborn you fall asleep at the wheel," Bebe scoffed.

He shot her an unamused glare in the rearview mirror, "Look, I said _I_ was the one who caved, all right? Don't get all up on my 'man-penis'."

"Please," Token added, rubbing his temple tiredly. He glanced out the window and twisted his lips. "Fuck, this is _literally_ the middle of nowhere, isn't it?"

Craig nodded, "Yeah, pretty much."

He cocked his brow, "Gotta wonder if this place will even accept my damn card if it's so far out of the damn world."

Bebe chuckled, " _No where_ in this country is _that_ far behind."

"You'd be surprised," Tweek frowned, remembering an unfortunate run-in on vacation with his parents down in New Mexico that landed him in a coffee shop that accepted _cash only_. He'd been thrown into a full-blown frenzy before being led to the ATM.

From in front of them, Stan was squinting as they drove along, eyes darting back and forth for wildlife and his damn turn. Wendy looked over at him and shook her head. "Stan, just admit you need glasses."

"No!" he snapped. "It's just _dark_. Everyone has trouble seeing in the _dark_."

"And your excuse for the _daytime_?" she asked dryly.

He shot her a quick glare and huffed. "I'm _fine,_ Wends," he insisted. "I don't need goddamn glasses, I just need this place to have a damn streetlight or two," he waved a hand around dramatically.

"Because _so many people_ drive the bumpkin roads and not the interstate," Cartman rolled his eyes from the backseat.

Wendy sighed irritably, rubbing her eyelids. "We _couldn't_ with Ken and Kyle in the fucking bed, Cartman. They'd kinda fly out and _die_."

He paused, looking up thoughtfully. "Okay but, hypothetically...would that _really_ be such a bad thing?"

"Eric, be nice," Butters lightly scolded, flinching at a sharp warning glare from the brunette.

"It's up here, Stan," Wendy pointed off towards the left at a small side-path nearly hidden behind a thicket. He sighed in relief, slowing and making the turn, watching to make sure Clyde followed him along the way.

From the bed, Ken and Kyle looked at each other before getting up onto their knees and peering around the side of the cab. "Where the fuck _is this place_?" Kenny raised his brow.

"Uh, Wyoming?" he hiked his brow amusedly. "The whole fucking _state_ looks like this," he gestured around aimlessly. "Besides, nothing wrong with some solitude."

Kenny glanced down at the smirk on his face and returned the expression, "True. I could fuck you into the _dirt_ and you could scare the animals away with your _screaming_."

"Well I'm not saying no," he batted his lashes flirtatiously. Kenny snorted, kissing his temple before they both looked back forward cocking their heads at a building coming into view. Kyle bit his cheek thoughtfully, "Awfully big place for being out here," he commented, eyeing the good ten stories spanning up into the night sky, a big blocky obscurity in an otherwise picturesque landscape.

Kenny leaned his head atop the mess of curls and nodded. "Wonder why. Ain't nothin' out here."

"Maybe the interstate used to run through here?" he shrugged. "Who cares, I just want a bed. And not this," he gestured to their nest of disheveled and now _dirtied_ blankets piled at the edge of the truck. "Hopefully they have a goddamn laundry service," he muttered.

"Hm," he hummed, kissing the back of his ear. "Hopefully, because otherwise they're going to need to burn our sheets when I'm done with you." Kyle's lips curled into a grin, shoulder rolling as a hot mouth traced the back of his neck. Another honk from Clyde startled them and they sighed irritably, looking back at the van flashing its lights at them.

"I say we go fuck on Clyde's bed first," Kyle muttered angrily.

"Seriously," he scoffed. "He's actin' like I helicopter-dicked him."

Kyle put his palm over his eyes and shook his head. "Never bring that up. Ever."

Kenny chuckled, elbowing him teasingly. "Admit it, it was impressive." He shook his head and smacked the blonde with the back of his hand, both of them grabbing onto the edge of the bed as the truck whipped into a parking spot. The two of them looked around confusedly. "Dude, are they even _open_?" Kenny questioned, eyeing the vast space.

"No idea," Kyle blinked. "Come on," he jerked his head, hopping over the edge of the truck and landed hard on the dusted pavement. He turned to watch Kenny doing the same, the blonde awkwardly trying to face-plant as he landed before Kyle caught under his chest and held him up, rolling his eyes. "Can you _not_ crush your face? Kinda don't wanna deal with the _whining_."

Kenny stumbled back up straight, cracking his neck and looking down at the shorter. "No, you just don't wanna lose my tongue," he purred, leaning down and pointedly swiping up Kyle's face.

"Stop it, _now_ ," Clyde's voice perked from behind them. They turned to watch him approaching with a glare. "I've been watching you two fondle each other _all fucking day,_ you've had _enough_."

"Well _someone_ has _endurance envy_ ," Kenny taunted, wrapping an arm around Kyle's waist and giving a playful sneer.

The brunette rolled his eyes and sighed irritably as the rest of the group slowly began to meander towards the three of them. He glanced over at Stan and glared, "We get to be first in line tomorrow," he demanded.

Stan looked between him and his friends as Kyle half-heartedly batted away his boyfriend's advances, nodding knowingly. "Understandable. You get the front for the rest of the trip," he assured him.

"Thank you," Craig rolled his eyes.

"Aw, you're all so mean," Bebe chuckled, walking up and bumping hips with Kyle. "I think it was _cute_."

Kyle blushed, giving her a scoff, "Shut up, Bebe."

"Nooopppee," she grinned, looping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer. "Kenny can't be the _only_ one who teases you, ya know."

"I'm the only one who can use it where it's _effective_ ," Kenny argued airily, watching Kyle rolling his eyes as Bebe pulled him closer. The redhead looked at Token sheepishly and he snorted, waving it off. He knew well enough getting into it with the blonde that their friendship was _touchy_ to say the least, at least on Bebe's end, Kyle just _dealt_ with it. The redhead had saved his and Bebe's relationship enough times through calmly working Bebe down from a fit of anger that he couldn't be _too_ angry at the closeness.

"Can we go in now?" Wendy shook her head. "It's fucking hot out here." The rest nodded in agreement, working their way up to the front of the building. Sharp eyes scanned the windows, seeing the light pouring through and a _'vacancy'_ sign lit up in the foyer.

Tweek sighed in relief, "We all thought it was closed," he gestured to his own group around him.

"Right?" Cartman scoffed. "Who the _fuck_ would keep a goddamn business open in the middle of fucking nowhere like this?"

"Well _obviously_ it's still lucrative if they're able to keep a building this size running," Kyle countered, shifting in Bebe's still-tight hold.

He rolled his eyes, "Probably using the swindling skills of the _Jew_ to keep it running." Kyle growled, being shoved out of the clutched arms to the other side of Bebe by Kenny and his strong hands coming up and clasping around his shoulders.

"Ignore him," he cooed by his ear. "We'll be in a nice bed soon enough," he promised, flicking his ear with a grin. "And we can take a shower."

"At separate times," Stan finished dryly. Kenny shot him a look, the both of them glaring at each other over Kyle's head.

Butters shook his head at the show, "C'mon, Fellas. We all just...just need some sleep, that's all. We're all awful tired."

"Agreed," Wendy nodded, watching the boys all stop and let herself and Bebe enter first, shaking her head with a smile at them all. She glanced back as they followed suit with a raised brow, "Even _you_ stopped for us, Cartman?"

"Ay, if there's a problem, you two...and Kahl," he added, shoving the redhead forward with them, "are the easiest to throw at people."

Bebe chuckled, "Well, I take that as a compliment regardless."

"I'm glad _you_ do," Kyle snarled, shooting him an evil glare before following the girls through the foyer into the lobby. They all came to a stop as they piled in, eyeing the area with raised brows.

"Talk about _plain_ ," Bebe scoffed in disapproval, eying the cheap grey carpeting with barely any padding under their feet, the unembellished beige tint of the walls. Whether from paint choice or smoking, they couldn't quite tell, noses hit with the heavy scent of a cigar's heady aroma from far off and away.

Butters narrowed his eyes, sniffing a bit more, "Do ya smell that?"

Kenny raised his nose and nodded with a grin, "Cigar, man. Smells nice."

"No, no," he waved his hands. "I mean _under_ that."

They all paused, going again and cocking their brows. It was like sheet metal, a light but dirty scent tinging along the underlining of the smoky aroma. "Maybe it's the pipes," Kyle surmised. "Smells kinda like iron."

Wendy nodded in agreement, "Makes sense. Hopefully it isn't their water."

Token stepped forward ahead of the group, fingers intertwined with Bebe's as he approached the front desk. He eyed the scratched cheap maple, seeing a barrage of initials scrawled into the wood. He cocked his head. "What the fuck."

"It's graffiti?" she raised her brow. "I know you usually stay at the Ritz, Sweetie, but this-"

"No," he cut her off, "Look at it. It's not all over the place."

They all stepped alongside him down the length of the desk, looking at the uniform initials sprawling down in straight lines with varying tally marks running down beside each set in immaculately organized fashion. "Huh," Clyde blinked. "That _is_ kinda weird. Organized hooligans?" he teased lightly.

"Maybe that's their guest book," Stan chuckled, the others laughing quietly with him as Token smacked his hand on the bell at the forefront of the desk.

The laughter stopped at a quick-paced barrage of clacking footsteps invaded the area, heads turning to watch a long-haired brunette appear from the side of the hall, a kind, warming smile over her face. "Hello," she greeted, shoes still clacking against the ground. Bebe and Wendy stole a look at each other, each quietly tapping their own pointed flats against the carpeted floor. They narrowed their eyes at the muffled sounds of their own, shrugging to each other and turning back forward. "Big group, biggest we've had in quite some time," she commented.

"Last road trip before college," Token nodded, more than used to these pleasantry conversations with hotel staff. They looked as another appeared from the doorway and approached the group, a tall and lithe man with black hair and smoldering grey eyes making his way over.

"Hey there," he nodded, dropping formalities. They were kids, no need to be _fancy_ with the opening dialogue. "What brings you out here?"

They all looked to Stan who cleared his throat, "We're hitting Yellowstone tomorrow. Just wanted to get some sleep before we made it up there."

"A good idea, don't wanna get sleepy on these roads. The mountains will getcha before you know it," he chuckled lightly. "I'm the manager of The Star, name's Bub."

"We didn't see a name," Wendy commented. "You were barely on the map."

He nodded, "Well, being the only place to stop for so many miles will do that to you. We get maybe a hundred people a year if we're lucky. Looks like 1/10th our quota is here tonight," he smiled brightly, teeth a blaring white. He jerked his head to the woman still smiling at them, "This is Lamia. Only other employee to stick around."

"Nice to meet you," Token replied smoothly. "We need..." he looked around and frowned. "Uh...how many rooms, guys?" He glanced at the three stragglers, "You guys cool with sharing a room?"

"I'm _not_ sharing a bed with these assholes," Cartman snapped.

"We have rooms with adjacent suites with an extra bed," Bub assured him. "No worries there."

Token nodded, "All right, then we need one of those rooms..." he glanced over at Craig who flickered his eyes between him and Tweek and shrugged, Token shooting him a sympathetic gaze before continuing. "One with two beds, and three with one bed."

The employees looked over the group confusedly. "Can you...separate into the groups that'll be sharing the beds?" Lamia asked quietly. "Insurance purposes and whatnot."

The three couples raised their brows, but did as told, separating into their groups of two just slightly from the rest. A quick glance over Stan and Wendy, then Token and Bebe was only fleeting before eyes settled on Kenny and Kyle standing there looking at them expectantly. The rest of the kids winced, they'd seen this potential situation before with the two of them and it did _not_ get pretty. They'd dealt with this time and again, and if it was taking the route they were expecting, they were more than prepared for Kenny to begin the groping and Kyle to begin the screaming.

"Ah," Lamia nodded, "Gotcha." She broke her attention from them, reaching under the desk and sifting through folders. Bub remained looking at the boys, catching Kyle's intense glare, the both of them narrowing their eyes in the slightest at each other before Lamia's head popped back up from her search. "We'll need all your names," she said, turning the book in front of Token. He sighed, grabbing the pen from the binding of the folder and beginning to scribble down the group's names.

He paused, looking slowly over at Kyle and the redhead frowned, rolling his eyes. "B-r-o-f-l-o-v-s-k-i," he scoffed. "Fuckin' known me since _preschool,_ Token."

"I'm sorry," he winced, awkwardly continuing to scribe as Kyle muttered under his breath, Kenny rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. Bub turned from the group, snagging keys from hooks behind him and nodding to himself as he worked. He turned, watching Token slide the book back over and rip his wallet out of his pocket, handing her his credit card. The group fell into an awkward silence as she managed to work a dusted credit machine hooked to a laptop that had to be from the late nineties with the way it was holding together.

Token cleared his throat, "So, only a hundred a year, huh? Must be hard to stay in business with those kinds of numbers."

Bub shrugged, "We have other jobs that keep the place running. It's an old family place, wouldn't feel right to sell it."

"Makes sense," Wendy nodded. "Hopefully your business can pick up. Lot of people like finding hidden places like this."

"We might be _too_ hidden," he smiled a bit. "But this works for us." Lamia finished the transaction, handing Token back his card and nodding in approval to Bud. "All right," he said, handing each group their own keys. "One group on each floor, that's just how many rooms we keep clean at a time," he shrugged sheepishly.

Token nodded, "Understandable. Thanks." He looked towards the group and sighed, "Wanna get our bags?"

"We're gonna head up," Wendy gestured to herself and Bebe. Their boyfriends nodded, kissing their foreheads before the group turned and walked back out of the lobby. The girls smiled gratefully at the employees before heading up the stairs off to the side for their rooms.

Outside, the air around the group just seemed to be _stifling_. "Can you _believe_ those fucks?" Kyle muttered.

"Well, stop being such a _fag_ and you won't have people looking at you with such _disgust_ ," Cartman drawled before pausing. "Well, aside from the _usual_ amount anyway."

"Fatboy, I swear to _God_ -"

"Guys, cool it," Stan sighed, looking at Kenny and Kyle sympathetically. "They didn't start a scene at least. One night and we're out of here, all right? Don't let it bother you too much."

Tweek gulped watching the scene from the van, "I'm just glad they didn't know about _us_ ," he gestured between himself and Craig.

The noirette rolled his eyes a bit but nodded, "Yep. Safe from that bullshit I guess. Thank _god_ for our double beds," he lamented sarcastically. Tweek cringed and Craig stiffened guiltily, rubbing his shoulder. "Sorry. I'm just tired," he explained softly. The blonde nodded, sighing as they began to work getting bags out of the vehicles. He stole a glance to Kenny kissing Kyle's cheek over at the truck and twisted his lips.

"That wasn't fair how they looked at them," he observed.

Craig shrugged, "Can't expect everyone to be okay with it."

"But he was _glaring_ at Kyle!" he said in a hushed tone.

Clyde snorted, "To be fair, Kyle was glaring right back. Tweek, they deal with that all the time. Cartman's pretty much made them immune at this point."

Tweek pouted a bit, nodding once more. "I don't think I could handle that kind of pressure."

"That's why _we_ don't advertise," Craig said blandly. "Those two walk around with fucking feather boas and limp wrists waving dildos around," he gestured aimlessly. Clyde and Token nodded in agreement and Tweek just shook his head disapprovingly, but kept his lips sealed. He'd already upset Craig, he didn't really want to push the issue.

They slammed the trunk shut after grabbing their bags, Token sighing as he hefted his and Bebe's duffles over his shoulder. "Look, shitty start for us all but it'll get better once we're out in Yellowstone with actual _life_ as opposed to being stuck in a fucking dystopian movie."

"Holy _shit_ the world could end and we'd never know being here!" Tweek exclaimed, Craig shooting Token a deadly glare as he went to comfort the blonde.

The remaining five walked over to them, raising their brow at the shivering mess. "Tweek, you all right?" Kyle asked in concern.

"He's _fine_ , Broflovski," Craig snapped.

Green eyes met his in anger, "I was just _asking_ , Craig. Didn't know I needed your fucking _permission_ to care about someone."

"Well you definitely wouldn't _get it_ ," he sneered.

"Shut _**up**_!" Clyde groaned. "Let's _please_ just go the fuck to _bed_?" he pleaded. The two of them paused, glancing at each other with angry expressions but gave a subtle nod. A truce for now, they were too fucking tired to deal with this bullshit. The group turned, making way back towards the hotel. Two sets of smoldering eyes watched them from a far-off window as they silently trekked through the lot, and small, indiscernible smiles crept up their lips, illuminated through the dark pane by mottled moonlight.


	3. Chapter 3

The stairwell was only half-lit, old creaking steps bent under the weight of the group as they trudged up the first flight. Fingers genially traced along the wobbling railing beside of them, running over the rises and indentations stamped down into the weak metal. "No wonder they can still afford it," Cartman muttered. "It's made with the cheapest shit. Wouldn't be surprised if the damn building wasn't made for holding thirteen goddamn people."

"Well if that were the case, it already would've collapsed since you weigh about half that, Fatass," Kyle rolled his eyes from in front of him. Cartman growled, going to hit him before Stan caught his flabby arm, shooting him a warning gaze from behind the behemoth.

"I'll throw you down the stairs if you start, Cartman," he cautioned.

He scoffed, shaking off his hold. "Sorry, Marsh, thought Kahl only took it up the ass from _Kinny_. Didn't _realize_ that you're part of his little fag ritual, too."

The redhead stiffened, stopping in his tracks and glaring down at the brunette. "Stop. It," he said sharply, Kenny reaching down and tugging his hand to continue to lead him up the steps. Cartman's mouth quirked into a smirk, knowing he'd hit his little nerves with such an insinuation. It was _always_ a favorite of his to prod at. They came up to the first flight, Clyde, Butters, and Cartman listlessly saying their goodnights as they made way down the hall.

"We'll meet downstairs at ten," Stan called as they continued upwards, getting a confirmation thumbs up from Clyde before they continued down the way.

Trekking their way up to the second floor, they cocked their brows at a distinct change of paint colors, switching from the tinted tan to a boisterous paisley blue. "Apparently they got bored with the color scheme," Token snorted, rolling his eyes. "Who's on this floor?"

"Me and Wends," Stan answered as he cracked his neck. "We're in twelve."

Kenny smirked, "Please tell me whoever's on four got room twenty."

"No, Dipshit," Craig said dryly. "We have five."

"Aw," he pouted. "Well that's not _nearly_ as fun." The others just shook their heads, Stan and Kyle stopping off on the second floor landing.

He looked at his boyfriend and smiled, "I'll be up in a minute."

"Kay. We're on floor six. I'll leave the door open," Kenny winked. "I'll get the shower started."

The others groaned, begrudgingly following the blonde up the next set of steps. Stan looked at Kyle and cocked his head. "Everything all right?"

Kyle paused for a moment, waiting for their footsteps to be out of earshot before shooting him an elated grin. "Kenny's moving with me to Boston!" he said excitedly.

He jerked back in shock. "Erm... _what?"_

He nodded briskly, shifting his messenger bag atop his shoulder. "We were talking about school and stuff and I asked him to come with me to Massachusetts and he said he would! Isn't that great?" he smiled brightly, eagerly awaiting his best friend's approval as he'd wanted for the past five hours.

Stan blinked at him, face dropping into concern. Kyle stiffened. He recognized that look. And it did _not_ belong here. "Ky...are you _sure_ that's what you want?" he winced. "That's...a _hell_ of a step."

"Why are you talking to me like we've only been going out for three months?" he demanded, joy instantly melting off his face.

"I'm not, I'm not," he waved his hands in front of him defensively and took a step back. Kyle was tense and likely to strike. Anything with him and Kenny was _always_ a matter that had to be handled like a goddamn porcelain vase lest the antsy Jew revert to his instincts to fight for his opinion. He'd only fought the redhead a handful of times, and he knew well enough he could get him down last, but he did _not_ want to deal with the black eyes Kyle would likely land. "Look I'm just _saying_ that you're eighteen. Not...I dunno...twenty five or something."

He narrowed his eyes. "When I'm 'twenty five or something' I'm going to be in fucking school still. Are you telling me I need to wait until I'm almost fucking _thirty_ before I do anything?"

"No," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "But shouldn't you wait until you _know_ how it's gonna go?" he winced.

Kyle scoffed, crossing his arms and tapping his foot in the slightest. "Okay, for one thing: Fuck you. I told _you_ because you're _supposed_ to be supportive of me, you assclown." Stan just sighed tiredly as he continued, "And _furthermore_ , I'm a _lot_ more confident with how Ken and I are gonna go, unlike _you and Wendy_ ," he hissed.

He cocked his brow, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I _mean_ that you two break up every fucking four months. Kenny and I haven't even hit a fucking _roadblock_ ," he said cockily with a huff. "Maybe I should've told fucking Tweek instead. Or _Butters_. _They_ support Ken and I! Hell, Bebe would drop everything to help us _move_."

Stan's face fell into an offended frown, "Yeah. Because you fucking care about _their_ opinion."

He pointed at him accusingly, "I care about Bebe's. I owe her a lot," he said sharply. "But fuck, Stan, _you're_ supposed to be the one that's happy for me," he gestured to him with a whine.

He shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Look, I just think that...Kenny..." he bit his lip, trying to choose his words carefully. "I think he might not... _like_ being so...close?" he winced. Instant regret followed with a flare of Kyle's nostrils.

"Care to _elaborate_?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Stan groaned, just wanting to go to bed. He should've just plastered on the damn smile and sated Kyle's need for his approval before sitting him down and talking it out back _home_. "Look, it's just...Kenny's restless," he cringed. "You think he's going to be cool with settling down into a life of bills and...and cleaning and... _being domestic?_ "

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Stan. He wanted me to live with him _years ago_."

"Let me guess: for unlimited access to your ass?" he hitched his brow.

The younger's face flushed over immediately, "NO!" he snapped, sending Stan recoiling a bit, expecting a fist to be flying towards his face. "We were talking about it when we were fucking sick one weekend and just laid up in bed," he growled. "So it wasn't an _afterglow_ thought, it wasn't a _heat of the moment_ discussion, you fuck! We talked about it for _hours_ and _I_ told him I wasn't ready for making that kind of decision!"

"You weren't even _old enough_ years ago, so that doesn't matter!" he argued.

"But now I _am_ ," he reminded him sharply.

"Boys?" Wendy popped her head out of their room, looking at them in concern. "Boys, are you okay?" She came out and cautiously stepped towards them, recognizing their tense stances anywhere.

Kyle looked between the both of them and sighed irritably. "Wendy, if Stan asked you to move in with him, would you?" he gestured towards his blanching best friend.

She blinked in surprise. "Is...is this a hypothetical or a lead-up?"

"Hypothetical!" Stan insisted worriedly.

Wendy narrowed her eyes slightly before they widened in realization, turning back to see Kyle drifting between fury and misery. She smiled softly, "You and Ken would do _great_ living together," she assured him. "He coming to Boston with you, I assume?"

"How the _fuck_ did you do that?" Stan blinked in shock.

She shrugged, tearing her hair out of her bun and shaking her head to loosen the stiffened locks. "Because it's _obvious_ with that kind of question?" She looked back at Kyle looking slightly more relieved and patted his shoulder. "I think it's _great_ ," she reaffirmed. "You can turn that boy into husband material yet," she winked.

His face lit up rosily, "I uh...I didn't _say_ -"

"Kyle," she stopped him, a wry expression over her face. "Please."

He blinked and cleared his throat, looking at his best friend's nauseous expression at the notion and taking an angry breath. "Well thank _you_ for being supportive, Wendy. Nice to know for certain _which one of you_ has the fucking brains," he huffed, turning on his heel and storming up the steps.

The couple watched after him before Wendy turned to her boyfriend and scowled. "Really, Stan? _Really_?" she questioned, shaking her head in disappointment and heading back to the room. He slowly blinked, turning and shamefully following her.

"I just don't want them to...to get out there and Kenny decide he's _bored_ and-"

"Oh my _god,_ " she rolled her eyes, sitting on the quilted bedspread and watching him close the door, tossing their bags onto the ground. "Stan, you _know_ that that's some high-class _bullshit_ that you're pulling out of your ass. You're just _jealous_."

He squinted at her, "Of what?"

"Of their relationship," she said smartly, getting to the ground to dig through her bag and rip out her hairbrush.

Stan rolled his eyes, "Oh don't tell me you think I feel like Kenny's stealing Kyle from me."

"Well...there is _some of that_ ," she shrugged. "But most of it is you don't like how _they_ can stay committed to each other and make decisions like that so easily. Me talking about us sharing an apartment in Denver has you running for the bathroom wanting to throw up your fucking KFC," she rolled her eyes. "Admit it, they have the stability that _we_ want but we can't seem to find."

Stan pouted, walking over and sitting beside her on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. "I think we do just fine."

"But you don't want to do 'just fine'," she said. "You, and I, want us to be better than that. We've been together _way_ too long to justify settling for anything less."

He rubbed his forehead tiredly, mentally cursing Kyle and his goddamn shock news. "Why does this sound like one of our lead-ups to another goddamn breakup?" he sighed.

"Well I don't want it to go that direction, so I suggest we keep it civil," she raised a brow, wincing at a tangle caught at the back of her skull.

Stan sighed again, reaching up and grabbing the brush, pushing her shoulder gently to get her to turn. He worked through the knot, beginning to tear the bristles through the thick ebony locks. "Well, what do we do?" he murmured. "Those two are... _spontaneous_ ," he rolled his eyes. "We think things through a little more."

"Well we _have to_ ," she reminded him. "We set each other off way too easily to be _too_ spontaneous. They can find a balance quickly that we can't. We have to give and take a little more. Nothing wrong with that."

He twisted his lips, holding a long strand of hair in his fingers as he lightly brushed through it. "I think it's pretty shitty that they can just jump right into that after so little time."

She snorted, "Four years is not 'a little time', Stan. It just seems that way since we're creeping on ten if you exclude all the damn breakups."

He smirked, pushing her shoulder lightly, "Sadly if you _do_ count the breakups, we're pretty much tied with them."

Wendy laughed a bit and nodded. "Well...where do _you_ see this going? Do you _want_ to explore and find yourself more in college? Or do you want some stability since everything will already be different?"

He shrugged, "Well I do like some stability. And I'm fairly fond of you, I guess."

She turned, putting a dramatic hand over her heart. "Oh, Stan. How romantic. You've officially _wooed_ me," she teased. He chuckled, kissing her cheek softly and she returned the favor. She smiled lovingly at him and shrugged, "I'm _just saying_ , there _is_ an apartment complex that's almost smack dab between our schools. If you want to live in dorms or whatever across the city, that's _fine_ ," she assured him. "We're only a bus ride away from each other. But...if you want to settle with an _idea_ of us, then we can do that, too. I mean, either way, _nothing_ is set in stone," she reminded him. "If things change down the line, then they do."

Stan let out a long breath, nodding along to her words and beating the back of the brush against his open palm. He swallowed down a bout of nausea trying to work its way up his gullet. "Look, I'm not saying no," he prefaced. "But...I'm gonna need some time to think on it," he winced. She nodded softly and he brightened a bit as inspiration struck. "We'll use this month as our test run," he said.

"Huh?" she cocked her head.

He grabbed her hands, stroking over them with his thumbs and grinning, "I mean, this is a month where we'll _always_ be around each other, right?"

"Right," she nodded with a grin, seeing those rare rusted wheels of his turning viciously.

"So, we see how we do spending all this time with each other and we come back at the end of the month and see how well we fared," he shrugged. "That way we _both_ know if we're compatible to actually live together yet, yeah?" he asked.

She smiled, turning up onto her knees and straddling over his lap, bringing him up for a long, slow kiss and nodding. "Sounds great," she whispered hotly. "I expect a full-fledged report, Mr. Marsh."

"Well, Miss Testaburger, only if _you_ edit it. I can't spell for shit," he smirked.

"Trust me, I know," she rolled her eyes amusedly, sighing contentedly as strong hands tracing over her back up under her t-shirt. Once more, she was finding herself sinking into the pool of home that Stan always seemed to submerge her in. And, once more, she could never see herself wanting to come up for air.

* * *

Lips trembled against his own and his hands came up, cupping the blonde head and stroking his thumbs over his temples. It was soft, gentle and sweet. Same as always. Craig had his mental counter going down, just waiting for the inevitable pull away.

And there it was. Fifty eight seconds. Not awful.

Tweek looked up at him and gulped, licking over his moistened lips and drumming his fingers against his thigh. "Um..."

"You're good," he assured him smoothly, pressing down a stubborn cowlick sprawling up the front of his head against his face. The blonde sighed, scratching his pajama bottoms anxiously. "Take your pills," Craig directed him firmly.

Tweek nodded, getting himself up and walking over to his own bed, digging through the disarrayed mess strewn about within. He snagged a clear orange prescription bottle, eying the refill set for the hundredth time. One left, he was fine for this month if they stopped at a pharmacy somewhere. Another crutch of his, 300 Mg of Wellbutrin XL to keep him sated and ward off overwhelming anxiety. He'd only been on them for about four months, but Craig said he was noticing a difference. He could _feel_ one, too. Things seemed a little clearer, his outbursts of random noises had nearly halted altogether. Craig had managed to talk him down from panicking over the pills being laced, taking him hand-in-hand to a pharmacy and asking one of them to sit down and explain the process and the strict security measures in place to ensure his safety. Tweek shoved one of the tiny pills onto his tongue, following with a sip of now-tepid coffee still lingering in his thermos. He glanced to see a simple coffeepot settled on the desk of their room, hoping to God that it'd work when morning rolled around.

He looked to see Craig staring at him with those glassed eyes, the ones that only softened for _him_. Around anyone else, it was like looking into stone, but for Tweek, he was given a mirror; a way to see himself and his boyfriend settled together within the light shading.

He bit his lip, looking at his thermos. "Are you mad?"

"About what?" Craig asked, blinking out of his stupor and beginning to change into his own pajamas.

"That I didn't want to have one bed?" he murmured.

He shrugged, "Look, you don't like making us public, that's fine. Though I do have to ask, just which bed are you sleeping in?" he cocked a thick brow as he wriggled out of his jeans and down to his boxers.

Tweek glanced between the two and shrugged, brushing some of his hair back. "I'd...be okay with...sharing," he murmured. "If the door's locked?" he winced.

"Auto-lock," he assured him. "No one getting in, and you can get out easily. All right?"

The blonde sighed in relief, nodding to himself and setting his thermos back on the nightstand. Craig waited for him to flip on the lamp before shutting off the overhead light, both of them silently worming themselves under the covers and stiff linen sheets. They stared at each other for a few moments before Tweek grunted, ducking his head down and pressing it against Craig's collarbone. The noirette took a deep breath, letting his arm drape across the smaller, enclosing him in his safe space.

"Craig?"

"Hm?" he replied, nose scrunching at the hair spreading along the pillow and his nose.

"Are you really going to stay in South Park?"

Craig paused, shifting and clearing his throat. "Yeah. I told you I was, and I am."

Tweek nodded, biting his lip softly. "You're going to school though...right?"

He shrugged awkwardly with the arm not pinned to the bed. "Plan on it. Get my generals in at the community college in Bailey and commute from home. Why?"

He sighed, pressing further against his clavicle. "Why aren't you leaving, though?"

Craig paused for a few moments, arm tightening around the blonde. "Few reasons. Money for one. For another, fucking community colleges and universities teach you the same goddamn thing, despite what certain asshole _valedictorians_ would say," he grumbled, shaking his head and remembering Kyle's hypocritical lecture of him 'not applying himself', but encouraging Kenny to do the same fucking thing as Craig was with enthusiasm.

"But you hate home," he said quietly.

"It's tolerable," he replied dryly. "Been there my whole goddamn life, what's a few more years?"

Tweek nodded in agreement, staring at Craig's Red Racer t-shirt with the worn logo. "Is that all the reason you're staying?"

Craig let out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head. "No," he kissed his forehead tenderly. "It's not." Tweek's lips curled into a smile, bringing his own arm up and wrapping around Craig's waist, the both of them clinging to each other, legs tangling under the cooled sheets. His fingers methodically stroked over the small of Craig's back, feeling the noirette's fiddling in his hair.

Tweek let out a happy sigh, face nuzzling closer to him. "I love you," he mumbled, eyes shooting open at the words and his mouth dropping in the slightest, entire body sparking with adrenalized panic. It'd just slipped out. Words he'd been holding for nearly five fucking months just fucking fell out of his lips like they fucking _had the right to_.

Craig blinked, frozen as as he stared at the curtains. He looked down as he felt Tweek trembling, his fingers stopping their stroking and instead clinging in panic, twisted in the cotton and over-chewed nails just slightly digging into his back. He let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. "I love you, too," he murmured against his forehead, kissing him once again.

The blonde slumped in a complete relief, thanking every god he could think of that he didn't have to retreat to his own bed and hide under the quilt for the rest of his natural life. He pulled back and stared at the boy, nearly jolting back at an unfamiliar _fondness_ hiding in those iridescent eyes. "Really?" he said, voice coming out as a pathetic squeak.

He snorted and rolled his eyes, nodding affirmatively. "Yes. Really. You know I don't fucking lie to make people feel better," he shrugged.

Tweek couldn't help but laugh. He had a hell of a point. He scooted himself up higher, their noses brushing against one another's before Tweek's lips found Craig's once more. The noirette stared in surprise for a moment before his eyes slipped closed, hands traveling once more up into his wild hair. The intoxicating scent of coffee was nearly overwhelming as Tweek's hands slid up his waist, curling around to ghost over his chest and wrap around his shoulders. A soft set of moans broke through the air, their legs tightening around one another's as they continued to innocently explore this new, uncharted territory.

Craig let out a rare smile against Tweek's lips, mental counter dissipated in the moment. No matter the time span, it was more than enough. Thank god for community college.

* * *

"Fuck..." Bebe moaned, head thrown back, thighs aching as she propelled herself up and down along Token's cock. Her fingers clutched around his broad shoulders, fake acrylics digging into the skin and leaving their crescent markings. Token's hands slid up her legs and to her hips, holding her steady as he grunted, slamming up into the girl using the mattress to bounce himself into the wet heat. "Oh god," she whined, hand going to cup and play with her own breast, flipping heavy, curly hair out of her eyes.

She looked into the deep brown eyes of the boy under her, fingers lightly tracing up to trace the dark skin over his broad chin and she smiled, hazel eyes alight with passion.

He grunted, pulling her forward to hover over him, her hair curtaining around them like amber wheat curled from the summer sun. He grinned, leaning up and latching onto her nipple, teeth and tongue playing along the sensitive skin, feeling her moan vibrating down her body. She gritted her teeth in pleasure, arms and legs trembling as she was moved by the hands on her slender waist.

Her hand left her breast, tracing down between them and fingers playing against her clit, biting down fiercely at the burning friction she could feel pressing inside of her time and again. "Shit!" she cried out, feeling Token moaning through his lips around her tit, fingers slowly drawing back and slapping her ass softly. "Token..." she moaned, a shudder racking through her as she sped her fingers, feeling the boy picking up his own pace and his hips rocketing against her. The cheap springs under them had little to hide, a part of her thankful they were the only ones occupying this floor. "Fuck, Token!" she screeched again, head flying back once more as she reached her limit; hot, white spots dancing along her eyes.

Token grunted again, head falling back from suckling and his teeth gritting as her body spasmed in a glorious heat around his dick. " _Fuck_ ," he finally muttered out a word, Bebe catching it and knowing he was right on his own edge, the sounds only escaping when he was close. She let him limply lead her along, letting herself become the vessel through which he'd find what he wanted and smiling to herself. He let out a shaking breath, another good few thrusts toppling him over, spilling into the latex surrounding his cock. His fingers tightened and loosened time and again around the girl's hips, Bebe feeling the print marks no doubt left in her tanning-bed infused skin.

She moaned satisfactorily, falling back forward and the both of them panting against one another, stealing quiet, sloppy kisses as Bebe slowly moved her hips off of him, letting him slip out of her body and feeling empty with the loss. She collapsed beside him, arm draped over his chest as they continued to pepper one another with their lips, tasting salted sweat dancing along both their mouths.

"Good?" Token asked breathlessly.

" _Great_ ," she moaned, leaning down and nuzzling into his shoulder. He chuckled, snaring the condom from off himself and tying it off, lobbing it into the wastebasket beside of him and snagging the towel they'd brought out from the bathroom to clean himself off. He handed it to Bebe, watching with a laugh as she shakily went to wipe down the inside of her twitching thighs, tossing it back onto the nightstand with a shuddery breath. "I almost hate to ask how you're so good at that," she mumbled from his skin.

"You, of course," he smirked.

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes amusedly, "Nice try, Lover boy. I'm not an idiot, you know."

"Never said you were," he shrugged. "But you _inspire_ me," he winked.

"Are you picking up your lines from Kenny or what?" she cocked her brow.

He shuddered, "No. I will _never_ take advice from him of all people. I'd sooner go to _Fatass_ for that kind of help before Ken."

"Not nice," she flicked his arm. "He buys Kyle presents all the time, takes him out to dinner, rocks his world on a nightly basis. He's not doin' too bad."

His face fell dryly, "Well, I guess I should thank you for bringing up their sex life _after_ we had ours. Because that killed my no-longer-existent boner."

She scoffed, raising herself up and running the back of her nail up his broad chest. "I want a relationship like what they have, don't you?" she grinned.

"No, I want _our own_ ," he emphasized.

"Nothing wrong with _comparing_ ," she drawled. "I'd rather be like them than _Stan and Wendy_."

"Okay but _everyone_ doesn't wanna be like them," he snorted, kissing her briskly. "Those two are fucking retarded when it comes to not breaking up."

"Right?" she laughed. "I love Wendy to death but...that girl..." she trailed off. "She's as stubborn as...well..."

"Kyle," he finished. "Problem is, Stan isn't bright enough to learn how far he can push her when they're arguing, even now. Ken learned in like a week for Kyle."

She nodded in agreement, humming happily as he pressed his lips against her collarbone. "I think a middle-ground is nice for us, wouldn't you say?"

"Thought you wanted one _just like_ the idiots'," he rolled his eyes.

"Look, Kyle tells me a lot of good stories, okay?" she shrugged. "Ken usually just rants about sex but Ky tells me about their dates and they just seem really sweet. I'd like that considering we don't do much outside of going to your place and fucking."

He cocked his brow, "They have actual dates? Figured they never left their rooms or wherever they decided to defile for the day."

She shook her head wryly. "Yes, they do. They have picnics a lot since Ken can't afford to take Kyle out anywhere nice when it's his turn to plan and pay," she waved dismissively. Bebe sighed dreamily, "Can we do that?"

"What? Switch off planning?"

"No, go on a picnic," she smiled with a sheepish shrug. "We could pack a nice hot dinner and take some candles and some music and just eat under the stars," she gestured across the ceiling.

Token chuckled, "Didn't know you were _such_ the romantic type, Bebe."

"I have my moments," she grinned. "I'm a cheese-lover at heart."

"Well I'm not claiming to be lactose intolerant myself," he smirked, pecking her lips softly. He nodded, "Yeah, we could do that. When we get home we have another two months to spend together before we're off and hours away from each other...may as well eat up every second we can, right?"

She nodded with a sad smile, "Yeah..." she stroked her fingers through his short hair and sighed. "This summer is it for us...isn't it?"

"I don't think we'd handle long distance well," he said quietly, bringing his hand up and pushing back some of her hair. "I really wish we could...but I think we both know the answer here."

"Yeah," she repeated in disappointment. "Really a shame. But...guess we went into it knowing it wasn't going to last, huh?" she shrugged. He nodded in agreement, the both of them staring at each other before kissing softly.

"Been a great few months though," Token murmured against her full lips.

She nodded, "It really has been, hasn't it? Least we have a few more."

Token sighed, pulling back and staring at her with a slightly cocked head. "If we're not in relationships when holidays roll around...we could still see each other when we're back in town," he suggested innocently.

Bebe cocked her brow, "Oh, so you want me to be your booty call?" she teased.

He smirked, reaching down and gently grabbing her ass, wriggling his brows, "Gotta problem with that?"

"Not particularly," she grinned, kissing his forehead. She raised up and stretched, moving to get off the bed. "I'll be right back," she said heading towards the bathroom. Token watched after her, letting out a long sigh as she closed the door and staring at the ceiling in a despondent silence.

Bebe leaned against the wooden barrier, forcing distraught tears out of her eyes and taking a calming breath. She knew this would happen when they'd started this 'arrangement' four months before. It was never meant to last. She rubbed her arms sheepishly, looking at her disheveled appearance in the etched mirror. She wiped her glassy eyes, sighing sadly as Token did the same out of sight from the bed.

Never meant to be or not, didn't mean they couldn't wish for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Kyle could barely stop himself from stomping his way up to his and Kenny's floor, fingers clenching ridiculously tight around the bag slung across his shoulders. He couldn't _believe_ the gall that Stan had. After _years_ of helping him piece back together his own failed attempt of a relationship with Wendy time and again, he had the _nerve_ to insinuate that _he_ was the one who had no idea what he was getting himself into?

The redhead scoffed angrily and shook his head as he reached the landing for the sixth floor, glancing down the hall to see an open door down the way. He scratched irritably at his hair, wishing he had a fucking ventilation layout of the building. Know _just_ where to angle the goddamn noise he was more than prepared to drive the other tenants crazy with. He stalked up to the door and glanced at the number, scoffing at the golden '6'. "Are they fucking _serious_?" he hissed.

Kenny glanced up from sifting through his suitcase, raising his brow. "Is who serious about what?"

Green eyes flickered over to him, Kenny reading the fury at once and stiffening, wondering what the hell he could've possibly done this time. "Floor six? _Room_ six? Seems like _Bub_ isn't one for subtlety," he rolled his eyes. "Probably regrets not making the floors all have goddamn seventy rooms so he could've put us where he _really_ wants us."

The blonde snorted, "Ky, c'mon. Don't let that piece of shit get t' ya. It's seriously not worth an aneurysm." Kyle took a long breath and nodded, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind him, throwing his bag haphazardly on the floor and moving over towards his boyfriend, grunting as he latched his arms around his waist and hid his face in his chest. Kenny tilted his head, smiling crookedly and hooking his own arms back around him. "Are you really that upset over a damn room number?"

"No. Not with that," he muttered against his shirt. "I talked to Stan."

He narrowed his eyes before realization flashed through them. "Oh. About our plans for fall?" Kyle nodded and Kenny rolled his eyes, squeezing the redhead a little tighter. "Lemme guess, he's being a complete douche over it."

"He thinks you'll resent me for 'domesticating' you," Kyle grumbled.

The blonde snorted. "I mean, you've already convinced me that I need to wear pants when I eat, not much more to go." He felt Kyle smiling against him and leaned down to kiss his ear. "Who cares what Stanny thinks?"

"I do," he said tiredly. "That's why I fucking told him."

He nodded softly, running his hand up through Kyle's wild, wind-swept curls. "Well, you know how he gets. He'll come around, Babe."

"And if he doesn't?" he finally lifted his head and looked up at him sadly.

Kenny smirked, giving an innocent shrug. "Then when we get home we defile his bed and leave the goddamn condom on his inhaler."

Kyle's face broke into a wider smiler, eyes closing and head drooping as he laughed, pressing his forehead against Kenny's collarbone. "Better. We drop his inhaler _into_ the condom."

"Oooh, that _is_ better," he concurred. "That's some dirty revenge right there," he purred into his ear.

Kyle smirked knowingly, "Guess someone needs to help me clean up my act."

"I mean, I think my method would be rather counterproductive," he grinned, starting to lead him backwards towards the bathroom. Kyle hummed, leaning up and kissing his neck as Kenny guided him into the tiled room, curled and loving fingers stroking behind his ear. "But if you'd like to _try_ my idea…"

"Very much so," he said mischievously, fingers working down under his beltline and rubbing slowly over the zipper. Kenny grinned wildly, reaching over and flipping on the showerhead, letting the sound of water slamming against a porcelain tub ricochet around the tiny room thunderously. The sound made little impact through their preoccupied minds, a tiny underlying hum picking up with the water as the boys connected their lips, Kenny working to remove the hoodie that Kyle had borrowed from him from his boyfriend's slender frame. Kyle threw his arms back to rid himself of the heavy fabric, reaching up and hooking up around his neck, forcing their faces closer together. Kenny bit his lip sharply, smirking at the satisfied hiss leaking between Kyle's teeth.

Kenny whirled him around and shoved him back against the wall, Kyle's head falling back with the impact and letting out a lengthy moan. "Such a naughty mind," Kenny teased, Kyle rolled his eyes amusedly at his tone. "Someone needs to be punished."

Kyle couldn't help himself and let out a snort, "That's the fucking lamest thing you've ever said to me."

"Wow, fucking kill my ego why dontcha?" Kenny feigned a scowl, breaking with a twitch of a smirk curling on the edge of his mouth.

The redhead shrugged innocently, fingers trailing up to hook inside of Kenny's waistband. "I mean if I'm hurting your feelings that much I guess I just need to get away from you and go to bed," he pouted dramatically. "Just not get to touch you and think about what I've done."

"You're not playing fair," he cocked his brow.

"I'm being 'naughty'," he mocked with a laugh.

Kenny blew some of his bangs out of his face, Kyle scrunching his nose at the stream of air smacking against him unexpectedly. "Well. Naughty boys don't _get_ to decide what happens," he cooed, leaning down and nipping at his neck, Kyle moaned and turning his head for him, fingers fumbling tauntingly with Kenny's jeans button. "They do what they're _told_ to do."

"Hmm," Kyle mused, turning and kissing Kenny's cheek. "And just _what_ am I expected to do?"

Kenny smiled against his neck, lapping his tongue along the flesh and kissing individual freckles spattered along the crook. "You stand still and let me do what I want to you."

He shrugged, nodding a bit. "I see nothing wrong with that plan." He grinned as Kenny shoved him back harder and reclaimed his lips, bodies rolling against each other as steam started to fill the room from the shower quickly gaining temperature. Hands began to fumble with one another's clothing, shirts torn off and pants shed just as quickly as they fought against one another to get the other bared first while tongues and teeth clicked against one another in a battle all their own.

It started off nearly inaudible, Kyle's ears just barely picking up any indication of a foreign sound over the water and Kenny's heavy panting against him. Slowly, it began to increase in decibel, the redhead's face scrunching a bit and pulling back from his boyfriend's mouth, looking around as a high-pitched frequency slowly began to fill the room. "Ken?" he breathed.

"Hm?" he half-responded, too lost in trying to get Kyle's boxers off to get another peek of skin.

"Do you hear that?"

He shook his head, "Can't hear nothin' but my blood goin' right where you want it to."

Kyle hissed, putting one hand over his ear and cringing. "I-I think it's the shower," he stammered.

Kenny pulled back and looked at the discomfort over his face, cocking his head and looking towards the pouring water. "What do you hear?"

"It's… just really high-pitched ringing," he winced. Kenny hummed, moving away and switching off the shower, watching as Kyle relaxed a little with the sound beginning to lessen.

"Better?" he asked.

Kyle nodded, "It's still there but it might just be pipes or from being in the truck bed all damn day."

Kenny smirked, "Well, fine. We don't need a shower…" he stepped back over and cornered him in deviously. "I like it when you're a little on the dirty side," he purred, reaching down under Kyle's boxers and cupping his flagging erection. The redhead had but a moment to smile before the sound came back full force, slamming into his eardrums and making his temple pulse in agony. He screeched, hands flying up to cover his ears and body folding in on itself. Kenny ripped his hand away, following him in a frenzy as Kyle crumbled to the floor. "Kyle? Ky, what's wrong?!" he asked, rubbing over his back and trying to get him to come out from his curled positioning.

Kyle couldn't hear him, could barely feel what he was doing as the sound got more and more deafening, his throat convulsing with the need to scream but unable to do so. All of a sudden he was reminded in a panic of a video he'd watched in anatomy class discussing the ears. How only 150 decibels would burst your eardrums, and how 200 could downright kill you. How he hadn't reached that threshold with this frequency he hadn't the slightest idea, feeling beyond nauseous and becoming dizzy as he was assaulted.

Kenny watched him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. He'd never seen Kyle act like this before. He bit his lip, "Hang on, I'll… I'll get you your water," he decided, hoping the distraction would do him some good. He got to his feet and jolted out of the room and Kyle's eyes shot open, all the sound vanishing at once.

The redhead blinked, rubbing against his ears and staring at the floor in bafflement. A shuddery breath left him, temple pounding and eyes watering as his hearing slowly began creeping back towards him. He gulped, trying to work his way back onto his feet, leaning against the wall and panting, fingers listlessly scratching against the shoddy white paint.

Kenny rushed back into the room, clutching Kyle's half-finished water and paled with worry. "Are you okay?!" Kyle nodded briskly, shakily grabbing his water and taking a few long, trembling gulps. Kenny sighed in relief, brushing his hair back a bit. "Holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me," he laughed a bit.

Kyle bit his lip, recapping his bottle. "I… I'm sorry I just… fuck, I don't know _what_ that was," he whispered, head still too pained to work out much more sound.

His boyfriend watched him sympathetically, "Hey, c'mon," he urged, gently touching Kyle's shoulder to turn him, biting his lip at Kyle cringing with reintroduction of the sound in a soft, steady hum. "Let's just go to bed." Kyle nodded, going back to cradling his temple as Kenny shut off the bathroom light and led him towards the bed. "Maybe it's just stress from fighting with Stan," Kenny suggested with a shrug.

"Maybe," he whispered, eyes closing and a soft whimper breaking through his throat. Lord knew he'd never had an episode like _this_ after a fight, but it seemed to make some semblance of sense in his disoriented state. Kenny twisted his lips, moving him to sit him down and shutting off the lamp on the nightstand, crawling into the bed behind him and pulling him against his chest, slowly starting to rub his shoulders and neck. Kyle took a pained breath, head leaning back and eyes scrunching at the crescendo once more beginning to echo through his eardrums. "God, it hurts," he whimpered.

"Shhh," he cooed in a barely audible whisper, continuing to try to work him down. "Lights are off, it's super quiet. It'll go away," he promised. He'd worked Kyle down from countless migraines over the year, the redhead a chronic sufferer between dealing with an overwhelming amount of schoolwork and dealing with his mother and his rather frequent brawls with Cartman. He'd learned the game well, knowing the best ways to calm him down and get him back to a point where that ever-present preceding aura would fade off and he'd be lulled back down into a state of exhausted relief.

Kyle's jaw shook, the sound continuing to bear down on him with no end in sight, no changes in its pitch, nothing but a straight line of constant white noise. _'God what if I have fucking tinnitus?'_ he managed to think, cringing again, barely feeling Kenny's working hands.

Kenny watched him in concern, feeling his shoulder and neck muscles tensing more and more with each passing moment. "C'mon, you need to lie down," he said softly, taking his water and setting it on the stand, moving Kyle to settle him atop the mattress. Kyle buried his head under his pillow, groaning and trying to smother himself away from the noise as Kenny watched him squirm and writhe helplessly. He ran a loving hand over his thigh and bared waist, the frequency shooting back up and Kyle letting out a scream. Kenny jerked his hand back, leaning over him and clutching at his own hair. He didn't know what to _do_. "Kyle? Kyle what can I do?!" he begged, watching him worriedly.

Kyle let out a dry sob, curling further into himself as the sound died off once more. "I don't know," he croaked.

"Sleep. You just need some sleep," he said firmly, tearing the undone blankets beneath them around Kyle's hunched form and throwing it back overtop of them. He lied down behind the redhead, wrapping his arm around his waist and feeling yet another cringe, biting his lip. "Shh," he said softly, reaching up under the pillow and stroking his hair. "I got you. It'll pass," he promised.

Kyle whined, pressing himself further against Kenny's chest for the comfort, trying to ignore the ringing still pertinent above all else. He tried to focus on the loving stroking of his hair, the soft kisses being planted on the nape of his neck. Nothing seemed to override the pure torment, however, shaking and opening his eyes in the darkness to warbling colors and shapes. This was nothing like migraines of the past, on a level all its own. He could feel his eyes throbbing, entire body shaking and tensing intermittently with the steadying noise. _'Maybe I can just get used to it and sleep,'_ he prayed, sniffling and letting Kenny wrap a little tighter around his waist. The pitch jumped up another octave, Kyle biting his lip. He'd just have to wait it out.

At least he had Kenny to help him through it.

* * *

Clyde blinked slowly as he sat on his bed, watching Cartman and Butters arguing from across the room over something or other. Or more, Cartman was yelling and Butters was just unwittingly nodding and trying to decipher whatever the hell the glutton was spewing at the time. Cartman was shaking a map around, pointing to and circling specific spots that Clyde was honestly just too damn tired to decipher what he was rambling about.

"You see? Here, about two miles in!" Cartman exclaimed, jabbing his finger into the Rand McNally. "There's gotta be something there!"

Butters grated his lip and cocked his head. "Gee, I-I don't know, Eric. That's off the trail it looks like."

"Well _duh_ ," he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "They wouldn't fucking _advertise_ that that's where they keep all the good shit!"

Clyde took a long breath, rubbing hazel eyes exhaustedly. "What the living hell are you talking about?" he grumbled.

Cartman shot his head towards him, seemingly forgetting that the other was even in the room at all before his face fell into a prim frown. "You are not part of this conversation, Clyde. So please keep your filthy Jew nose out of it."

"I'm not fucking Jewish," he rolled his eyes.

"You're as _nosy_ as one."

"Yeah!" Butters nodded before pausing. "Wait."

Cartman snorted, gesturing to the blonde. "Even _Butters_ says so, and you know he doesn't lie. Are you calling Butters a liar, Clyde?"

"Well, well I ain't no liar," Butters reiterated with a firm nod.

Clyde leaned his head back and groaned. "Holy fuck I have to drive again tomorrow. Can we _please_ just go to bed?"

Cartman shook his head firmly. "No. Yellowstone is hiding something."

"Oh my god," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd picked up from years on the football team with Stan. "What are you talking about?" he repeated.

"Probably fill the geysers with shit," he continued on, displeased with his insistence at knowing what he knew. "What better place to keep the Federal Reserve's excess funds?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Uh, at the fucking Federal Reserve?" he stressed. "Besides, Kyle already goddamn told you that the _Mint_ and the _BEP_ make the damn money."

Cartman cocked his brow suspiciously, "Awful Jewish of you there, Clyde. Thinkin' you know where the money is and trying to redirect me. Kahl must've already infected you with the virus."

"Virus," he repeated.

"Injewenza," he said staunchly.

His face fell flatly. "You know what? You're right, Fatass. Please jump into a 'false' geyser and get rich. Show me up. Please."

"I will," he said smartly. "Well. Butters will."

The blonde brightened, "Eric is makin' me the Head Geyser Diver!"

Clyde just shook his head and got to his feet. "You be whatever the fuck you wanna be. I'm taking a shower and then I'm taking the single room since you two are going to be planning or whatever."

Cartman scoffed, "Fine. Don't come cryin' t' us when we come back from this trip loaded and you're just as poor as Kinny."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag. _'God I wish I was loaded,'_ he thought exhaustedly, heading towards the bathroom lying between their conjoined rooms and shutting the door behind him. He dropped his duffle onto the ground and switched on the tap, flicking on the showerhead and watching with tired hazel eyes as the awkward angle of the head splashed the water against the tub wall. He grunted, reaching up and trying to redirect the flow, gritting his teeth at the rust built around the pivot point preventing movement. "Of _course_ ," he hissed. Just another _perfect_ addition to this goddamn 'vacation'.

He grumbled, starting to strip out of his clothing, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and turning on the screen, sighing at a text from Annie still waiting to be responded to from ten minutes before. _'Hope ur trip with all those idiots is going well! My family had a barbeque today, they all missed u :('_

He groaned, lying the phone down on the edge of the sink and shaking his head. How he _wished_ he would've stayed behind. Annie's dad's burgers were to goddamn die for. Plus none of this nonsense that he was suffering through. There were no unscheduled coffee stops at Annie's. No couples aside from the two of them making out to the point others wanted to retch. None of Wendy and Kyle's lectures, none of Craig flatly responding and flipping off everything said. None of Cartman's plans and Butters' naivety. He could've spent the summer at home, or at the very least, worked harder to convince Annie to tag along and make the trip more endurable. She at least wouldn't drive him completely mad. Or, if she did, at least he got goddamn laid at the end of the day at the very least.

He stripped off the rest of his clothes before grabbing the phone yet again, quickly responding, _'Damn, wish I'd been there. These people r all driving me crazy. I should've listened to u."_

Clyde once more set the phone safely aside and climbed into the shower, wincing at the heat beating down on him all at once. He turned the cold-water knob a bit, getting the temperature at least _somewhat_ more tolerable, leaning his head down and stroking his fingers up through his thick brown hair. He sighed, shaking his head as he tore knots apart and let water find its way to slip onto his scalp.

His nose scrunched as it began to lightly stuff up, rolling his eyes a bit and continuing to wash himself down. He just had to make it through these next few weeks. Focus on letting himself loosen up before having to buckle down with the rest of them and realize that college was around the corner. And he wasn't stupid, he _knew_ that they might be driving him insane, but he would've really regretted not taking this chance when he got it. After all, Annie was going to the university in Boulder with him, so it's not like he was exactly wasting precious little time that he had with her by not staying behind. They didn't have long before all of them split off into their sporadic corners on the map, and the last thing he wanted to do was preemptively end lifelong friendships by electing that nailing his girlfriend was more important than spending time with them.

Given, having _both_ options at once would have been lovely if Annie wasn't so goddamn stubborn. He knew that it mostly spawned from an ever-present rivalry with Bebe and Wendy's friendship, but he also knew her pure disdain for the majority of his buddies. He knew how to tolerate them with only aggravation present. She couldn't _stand_ most of them, which was understandable. She hadn't exactly known them as more than just 'those guys' for longer than they'd been together. And their group was nothing but a bunch of 'those guys' and 'that guy'.

That guy who buys Bebe Coach purses. That guy who flips me off. That guy who spilled coffee on me. Those guys who I found half naked and dry humping in Heidi's bathroom at her party. That fat guy and his blonde pussy friend. That guy that throws up everywhere.

Clyde was just glad that he was 'that guy that I'm dating' and hopefully little if nothing more than that.

He winced, his nose becoming more and more clogged. "What the fuck?" he said, rolling his eyes as his voice came out nearly identical to Craig's nasally inflection. He rubbed water out of his right eye as it dripped through his lashes and sighed irritably, trying to force air to break back through his nose. He glanced at the steam fogging up the sliding shower door and narrowed his eyes. Steam _unclogs_ , doesn't it?

He hummed and shook his head. Whatever. Just another annoying element to his day. He reached down to grab one of the complimentary shampoo bottles, dropping it at a sudden clenching of his throat. His eyes widened, hand going up to grasp around his neck, barely able to make out a wheezing noise. Gaze darting around frantically, his free hand limply grasped at the porcelain wall, scratching and trying to yell out. He was going into a state of panic, mouth gaping and getting warmed droplets of the steady shower on his tongue.

' _Asthma?!'_ he thought in a frenzy. He'd never had it before; he didn't know what to do.

He gasped, forcing down every ounce of oxygen he could through what seemed to be a pinhole left in his trachea as he threw open the frosted glass door and stumbled out of the shower. He yelped as he slipped and fell to the tile with a loud thud, cringing in on himself and shaking. All at once his throat reopened, taking in a long, grateful breath and gulping, forcing himself to sit up and hiding his face in his palm as he tried to calm his racing heart.

The door burst open and he looked up, seeing Cartman and Butters staring at him in shock. Cartman's face twisted, "Oh _gross_ , you're naked!"

"I was in the shower!" he rasped, clutching at his throat again at the grated tone working through.

Butters blinked, reaching behind the door to grab one of the hung white towels and handing it down to him, Clyde covering himself and continuing to try to regather his bearings. "Gee whiz, Clyde. You all right?" he asked worriedly.

The brunette nodded. "Yeah I… I don't know what happened. My throat just… closed."

Butters' face contorted, "Well… well that's no good. Want me to get Stan? Maybe his inhaler will work for you, too."

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine now. Just… just freaked out."

Cartman scoffed, "Leave it to you to catch not only the Jew's disease, but the hippie's, too."

"Fuck off," he muttered, wrapping his towel around his waist and shakily getting back onto his feet. "Just go to bed and leave me alone. I'm fine."

He threw up his hands and gave him a sneer. "Well _sorry_ that we came in to make sure you didn't crack your fucking empty head open. We'll be sure to let you bleed out next time, Donovan."

Clyde just rolled his eyes and waved them away. Butters paid him one more concerned glance before nodding and turning to follow Cartman back into their room, shutting the door quietly behind them. Clyde gulped, trying to straighten himself up and looking up at the ceiling with bleary eyes. He sure as hell wasn't expecting that, but leave it to his body to decide to make sure even his very last activity before bed was something to add to his misery.

He glanced over at his phone as it dinged with another message notification, snaring it and flipping it open. _'Told u u shoulda stayed home w/ me ;p'_

Clyde glanced into the shower, slowly reaching in to shut off the water and taking a shaking breath at the last droplets dripping down into the tub. He was starting to think that Annie had a point. He really should have.


	5. Chapter 5

Tweek's therapist had long ago helped him delve into his insomniac tendencies. After _weeks_ of discussing cutting down on the caffeine going in one ear and out the other, she had suggested for him a nice meditative routine might help him finally rest his weary, wary brain. Find a pattern, stick to it no matter what, and eventually his body would latch onto it, recognize just what it is he needed to be doing, and he'd be asleep in no time.

He had a feeling Dr. Atka would not find this disruption of his pattern to be in his best interest.

Blonde hair flew back, spread out wildly on his pillow as his head tilted, neck arching and soft cries breaking out in a stuttering rhythm, voice hitting a vibrato as erratic as his heartbeat as warm lips traced down under the blanket up naked, pale thighs. A tongue genially slid up along his erect dick, pressing it forward against his belly before a hot mouth overtook the head and he let out a long, desperate moan.

Glazing eyes of swampy hazel flickered down as the blanket was pushed back off of Craig's head to give him some air from the stifling confinement. Tweek's mouth trembled, watching that inked hair bobbing up and down along his cock, feeling that sarcastic tongue turned velveteen as it traced the veins, enjoying every inch of Tweek's body that he permitted to be shared with him and him alone. Thighs spread out wider, Craig settling comfortably in the space. Fingers traced lightly down his hips, rounding his ass and lightly spreading his cheeks, feeling for telltale tremors telling him that he was edging too far for his boyfriend's comfort.

Thin, shaking hands twined in the pillow under his head, toes curling and a mocha flavored gulp receded down his steadily drying throat. His head was spinning, the feeling Craig instilling with him outweighing years of espresso intakes with gusto. He forced down the sounds trying to creep their way out of his lips, not knowing just how thick the floor and ceiling were and not willing to chance one of the others in their group making snide comments to them in the morning and invoking Craig's rare wrath. A squeak managed to irk out as Craig's fingers traced closer towards his opening, the hands automatically moving back to where he was last comfortable, the noirette never losing his pace as he followed his signals.

Tweek worried his bottom lip in his teeth. They'd gone that far twice and only twice. Once on Christmas, and another time when Tweek hit one of his rare calmed spells and found himself scouring the internet for porn, Craig walking in to find him half-hard and filled with lust he didn't know how to combat without his boyfriend's assistance. "D-do… d-do you want…" he trailed off with a rather strong suck along his skin, hips arching in the slightest.

Grey eyes flickered upwards at his shaking lover, mouth sliding off of his cock with a soft _pop_. "Whatever you want," he answered calmly, hand wrapping coolly around the skin to keep Tweek feeling as well as he did now. He knew damn well what _he_ wanted, but Tweek called the shots. He _always_ called the shots. Craig would be perfectly fine finishing here and Tweek watching him get himself off. Or hell, one of the rare, sloppy blowjobs his boyfriend had been determined to practice until he was 'somewhat good at it' as Tweek had told him determinedly one odd night between Craig's knees. Craig had no idea what he'd meant, but if he was willing to make what he did even better, then by no accounts was Craig going to try to stop him.

The blonde gulped nervously, fingers digging further into his pillow, heart hammering like a malfunctioning metronome. "O-okay," he finally croaked out.

Craig popped up, leaning over him and Tweek gulped, seeing those iridescent eyes flickering with intensity as he studied him in the sparse moonlight spilling into the room through cracked blinds. A hitched gasp broke, lips parting and body arching with another pleasantly steady jerk of his hand combatting the pure twitching adrenaline rocketing through the blonde. Craig stopped his hand, thumb playing lightly over the head as he observed Tweek's shadowed features. "I'm turning on the light," he informed him, moving to do so and both of them squinting as 40 watts flooded the room. Craig moved back into his positioning, taking back his hold on Tweek's erect skin and stroking over him, watching him riding along his palm. Calculating shades of pumice scanned over the telltale angles of a lightly quirking face. Studiously, he observed which eye twitched the most. The right in this case, a good three spasms with each pump of his fist. Right was good, left meant to back away. His eye was drawn to how he bit his lip, the skin beginning to pale lighter than his coffee-stained enamel.

The lips opened, "Craig," he breathed almost silently, voice cracking on the edge of his name. "J-just… just come _on_ ," he said, eyes going wide, hazel locked on him in a plea. If he checked for _too long_ , Tweek knew just what would happen: He'd get self-conscious. He'd lose any hint of the lust driving him forward and he'd end up curled up and pretending to go to sleep just so Craig could roll over and jerk himself off. He didn't _want that_. He _never_ wanted that, and Craig's consistently sharp notes on possible hindrances tended to cut them off _far_ too often.

Craig let out a deep breath through his nose, giving a soft nod. Tweek rarely got _demanding_ towards him in this scenario, so he wasn't sure of how to play it. He'd just go along for now he supposed, see where it would take them. He turned down to the side of the bed, snagging his backpack from the floor and opening pockets, cursing under his breath as he shuffled around for materials. Tweek watched him, breath shaking and hunger steadily growing as Craig finally managed to track down his last-minute packing decision and toss his bag back onto the floor. Tweek cringed with the loud thud from Craig's stowed away astronomy books ricocheting through the carpet, making a mental note to keep himself quieter than that at the _very_ least.

Muggy color began to glaze heavily as he watched Craig tear off his t-shirt and worm out of his boxers, eyes flickering down to the exposed, hardened flesh. A part of him, the part that he liked to pretend wasn't always there driving him mad, was absolutely _thrilled_. It was a delicate game he'd had to learn to play, his nerves constantly redirecting into a sexual drive since he'd reached puberty, having to figure out how to balance it all down and redirect the focus elsewhere. Finding himself paired off with Craig certainly hadn't helped with having to find new methods…

He gasped as a wet finger rubbed over his hole, Craig watching him carefully as he slid inside and Tweek let out an exhale, feeling the chill shift almost automatically while he played inside of him. Craig leaned back over top of him, tilting Tweek's head down from its surprised positioning to take his lips. Tweek moaned quietly as a thumb stroked over his temple, brow knitting as a tongue broke through his teeth and his body tried to decide where to focus all its energy. Around and around the finger continued to wriggle, Tweek finding himself accustomed to the sensation in next to no time and giving Craig a slight nod, lips parting to utter a simple _"Nngh, m-more,"_ before retaking his boyfriend's air supply.

Craig did as requested, genially slipping in a second digit, feeling Tweek going through the motions trying to get himself to relax around the invasion. Muscles bore down uncomfortably, Tweek's lashes fluttering and hard gulps falling down his windpipe. Craig made a soft noise of consideration as he felt the confliction, moving to kiss his cheek. "You sure?" he murmured against red skin.

"Stop _f-fucking_ asking!" he hissed, hips arching up with a deliberate press against his prostate. Tweek bit down hard on his lip once again, rolling himself along Craig's fingers, repeating to his body time and again to _calm down and let it happen_. He knew what he goddamn wanted, his nerves were already fighting _enough_ against him, he didn't need Craig to join in on that wave of hesitation. "More," he demanded curtly, brows furrowing.

"You su-"

"Craig!" he snapped, hazel locking in grey, muted tones gleaming antithetically from their typical states, meeting in the middle of lust and frustration with one another's insistence. "Please, just _d-do_ it!"

He sighed through his nose and nodded, third finger gently worming down with its counterparts, studious stare watching Tweek's head lolling back, chin shaking and chest heaving in short, labored pants. Bony hands turned backwards, fingers delving down into the stiff linen beneath them and clutching, body pressing up against his touch. A moan snuck out through the layers of discomfort and irritation, Craig observing and spreading his fingers as Tweek fought to silence himself. Lips folded in to bite upon, subsequent sounds stopped abruptly with sharp inhales, filling the room with staccato croaks and the soft sonority of nubby fingernails scratching into the sheets. One of his hands began straying towards his head, Craig catching it before it wrapped around his hair to try to tug at it and rip out follicles. Their fingers linked against one another's, Tweek's own digging deep enough against Craig's knuckles to make him wince in the slightest. Blonde lashes batted from half-lidded eyes, roasted-nut irises watching the hovering boy's intense stare in lust.

"Doing all right?" Craig asked cautiously, fingers spreading in the tight warmth again, feeling the relaxation of muscle beginning to ebb around him, accommodation finally settling within his twitchy boyfriend.

Tweek nodded, mouth opening for his tongue to dart across throbbing lips from their enamel-coated torment. He suppressed a long whine at a finger pressing back up against his nerves, toes curling and calf cramping as his body tried to lift up for more stimulation. It was almost becoming comforting in a way, Craig's fingers keeping him locked down onto Earth, all focus situated on keeping him in the moment, never an easy task for anyone to accomplish. No one but Craig, who'd managed to find a way despite his irritatingly consistent questioning.

"I-I'm good," he mumbled out, reaching down and grabbing Craig's working arm. Craig stared at him uncertainly for a moment before reading the frustration beginning to build and nodding. He slipped his fingers back out, wiping them against his leg and snagging a condom packet from beside of him. Tweek propped himself up a bit on his elbows, feeling so strangely empty without his fingers as he watched him cursing to himself as he struggled with the foil packaging. Finally, he managed to free the latex from its confines and work it down around his cock. He backed up a bit to grab the lube bottle and douse his hand to stroke himself.

Tweek bit his lip, nerves firing all at once but pressing them down. He glanced up at the ceiling, wondering yet again just how thin it was, if Token and Bebe would hear them. He made a small noise of consideration before grunting, flipping over onto his stomach and clutching Craig's pillow in his arms. Craig stopped his preparation, blinking at him. "Uh. Wanna stop?"

He shook his head, propping up on spread knees and looking back at him, face flushed over as he trembled in impatience. "N-no. Just _c'mon_ already!" he said snippily.

Craig cocked a thick brow, crawling over behind him and looking at his face cautiously. "You're sure?" So far he'd had a 100% rate of Tweek wanting to be on his back and seeing whatever Craig was doing. Given two times wasn't exactly a phenomenal experiment size, but proven results were proven nonetheless.

"Jesus _Christ_! Craig just _go_!" he hissed, backing up and grinding against him, Craig's hands snagging his hips and gasping lightly at the sudden, unexpected pressure against his cock.

Craig hesitated for only a moment before perching up on his knees, staring down the slope of Tweek's spine, thick skin hiding his vertebrae despite his slender frame. Years of dousing his coffee with cream and sugar, Craig could only surmise, a hand gripping Tweek's ass firmly. He could feel the subtle tremors, shaking his head lightly as he edged closer, hand secured around his cock slowly rubbing between the fleshy globes. Tweek dug his face down into the pillow tinged with the smell of stale detergent, whining and bucking back slightly. Craig grunted, catching his opening and genially beginning to sink into the hot, tight frame.

Tweek's back locked, teeth snaring the white pillowcase with the gold pinstripes as Craig pressed inside of him, feeling those sharp eyes flickering around at his various reactions. Forehead already dotting with sweat, he pressed his face further into the polyester cushion, a long, muffled whine coming through as Craig hit his end, shifting slightly and opening him wider.

Craig trapped his lip between his teeth, hand kneading his boyfriend's hip and ass, fingers drumming lightly along the trembling skin as he waited. A long, shaky breath left him, cock clenched in the velvet vice as muscle spasms ran rampant. He groaned, leaning forward and his forehead falling to Tweek's sloping back, feeling him pressing back just slightly, hearing a muffled _"G-GO!"_ coming from a hidden face.

He inhaled sharply, rearing back and slipping back into place effortlessly, Tweek moaning into his hiding spot before snaring the case in his teeth yet again. With a slow, steady pace, Craig began to thrust, lifting his head enough to watch the muscles of Tweek's shoulder blades shifting as he rolled them back against his rhythm.

Tweek keened lowly, legs spreading wider and his elbows digging down into the mattress, taking his stance to buck back and meet Craig's hips with each push. This was so _new_ , this unfamiliar position seeming to fill him more than ever before, each of Craig's thrusts seeming to open him wider, force his body to swallow every motion. Each twitch of Craig's doting fingertips was a surprise out of his sight, his nerves flaring in a fashion he'd never expected, in a sense that ignited him with raw, dripping lust as opposed to his typical bouts of jerky fright.

Craig could hear the rattling of his chest, the breathy moans escaping into the fabric smothering him. A demanding press back against him shook him out of his mesmerized state and made him blink in surprise for a moment before tonguing over his lips. Seemed as good a signal as any. His grip tightened against Tweek's skin, squeezing against his hip bone as he propelled himself harder into the smaller body. Tweek let out a long screech into his pillow, body jerking back to meet him enthusiastically. Slim hips snapped forward at a quicker pace, long arm reaching forward and snaring Tweek's shoulder, rutting against him shamelessly and dropping his head with short pants. He swallowed a mouthful of hungry saliva, feeling Tweek's body reverberating back against him time and again. Stinted grunts escaped his throat, teeth yellowed by tobacco clenching and grating as he worked, lost in the heat beckoning him onward. Tweek's hole stretched welcomingly around him, the quiet, yipping sounds from the forefront of the bed echoing the sentiment.

He watched Tweek's right hand fly down and underneath him between his legs, his own hand moving down and swiping residual lube against Tweek's palm before reclaiming his grip on his ass. Tweek's head swiveled to the side, biting his tongue to keep his noise at a minimum as he escaped the stifling heat he'd thrown himself into. He gripped around his dripping cock, brows furrowed and spastic noises of overwhelmed frustration breaking between them. His back heaved with labored breaths, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of nothing but air through a dry mouth. The air was heavy like a rainstorm, every ounce of bariatric pressure weighing down on him, increasing with every inch of Craig's cock plowing down inside of him. His slick hand slid fluidly around his dick, keeping in time with each thrust and pleasantly surprised as his random spasms gave him an unexpected change of tempo.

Craig's hands couldn't seem to stay still, gripping and kneading Tweek's ass and running from his shoulder to his waist, backing up just enough to see the sight of his cock disappearing inside of his boyfriend again and again.

"O-oh Jesus!" Tweek yelped, head going back into his pillow as Craig slammed into his prostate with the new shift. Craig tightened his grip around him, aching back forced to work harder, get those erratic snippets of screams out as much as he could manage. Tweek's hand increased in pace, eyes scrunched shut almost painfully, mouth fully open and practically engulfing Craig's pillow yet again. Shoulders pinched, back arching down as he fisted his cock, feeling it dripping onto the sheets and ready to burst from the stimulation. A harder delve of Craig's fingers into his ass was all he needed, the pressure launching him into a long, nearly shrieking scream of Craig's name as he came over their sheets, body continuing to rock viciously to Craig's pleasure. The rush was intense, entire being ascending for a brief moment into a state of heightened clarity and calm he so rarely got to experience.

His arm dropped from his spent dick exhaustedly, feeling Craig speeding up once again, forcing himself to remain up to be impaled despite wanting so desperately to collapse from the exhilaration. Craig tongued over his teeth, the spasms wrapping around his cock almost too much to bear all at once. He ducked his head back down, the sweat of his forehead combining with the salted fluid dripping down Tweek's spine as he rutted, the friction harsh and unbelievably acute. Fingers gripping Tweek's shoulder clutched tighter, air hissing through his teeth as he lost sight in a blaze of black and white sparks, continuing to move as he exploded into the condom with a low-seated growl from the back of his throat. Tweek moaned softly at the feeling of his jerky movements and that impassioned sound, head nuzzling into the pillow as Craig's tempo at last began to wane.

Craig came to a full stop, still seated inside as he attempted to catch his breath, fingers finally relinquishing their hold on him. His head lolled back, looking at the ceiling with glazed eyes as he carefully pulled out, falling back onto his calves and rubbing the back of his stiffened neck for a moment, creaking a lid open to see Tweek struggling to flip himself back over. He rolled his shoulders, moving forward and grasping under Tweek's chest to put him back upright and out of his mess. Tweek gave him a soft smile through his panting, tiny jerks of his muscles radiating from his core to his outer digits. Craig gave him a half-lift of his lips, moving to remove the condom and tie it off to discard in the wastebasket beside them. He sighed, leaning forward and kissing Tweek softly before pressing back up and heading towards the bathroom to snag a towel.

He pulled a sheet of white cotton off the brass hook, hearing a slight _scratch scratch scratch_ and pausing. He glanced around in confusion, waiting for the noise to start again as he slowly backed out of the bathroom, vision sweeping across the floor barely lit by the outside light.

Tweek raised his head from his pillow watching him with slow blinks. "Craig?" he croaked, voice shot from its previous strain. "Are you o-okay?"

Craig snapped his attention back to his waiting boyfriend, giving him a brief nod. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, wiping off his dick and tossing Tweek the towel. Tweek let out a long sigh, limberly cleaning the inside of his thighs and splashback that'd managed to creep onto his stomach. Craig snagged his boxers and pulled them back up his legs, searching under the blankets for Tweek's flannel bottoms. "Wanna just move to the other bed?" he suggested, finally managing to snag the yellow and black plaid fabric and toss them his way.

Tweek nodded, letting out a long yawn and lobbing the soiled towel onto the bed. He got onto his shaking legs, worming his pants up his calves and thighs, giving a slight cringe at the soreness beginning to settle. _'Worth it_ ,' he thought to himself firmly. No need to emphasize his attention onto the _only_ downside. He watched Craig slipping on his t-shirt and slowly making way towards him, dropping his arms around him and pulling him into his chest. Tweek looked up at his sleepy expression, fascinated by the rare contentedness spread along his face. He gave a soft grunt, turning and burying his face into Craig's shirt, picking up the lingering stench of stale tobacco from one of their many gas station stops. A soft hum vibrated through his throat as subtle lips planted against his thick, strung-out hair, relaxed fingertips stroking along his spine.

"Doing all right?" Craig murmured.

He nodded, "F-fine."

"You got a little pushy there," he said, Tweek hearing the teasing tone shadowing the edge of his voice.

"And?" an embarrassed little voice came through muffled by cotton.

His chest rose, a tiny huff of a laugh as he kissed him again. "Nothin'."

A sudden thud slammed against their door, both of them jumping back and clasping onto the other tighter, heads shooting around and staring at the wood with gaping expressions. "What… what was that?" Tweek stammered.

"I don't-" Another hard slam cut him off, Tweek's fingers entangling deeper in his shirt, heart beginning to race all over again and not in so pleasant a way as he'd dealt with prior. Craig narrowed his eyes towards the door. "Who's out there? McCormick, if that's you, I swear to _God_ you better fuck off!"

They waited a good ten seconds before a rapid beating began to slam against the maple, the entire structure bending with the force. The sound was deafening, the boys cringing as the heavy thudding echoed around them. Upper lip curling, Craig unwound himself from Tweek's grip, firmly walking towards the door with clenched fists. He ripped it open, blinking in confusion at the complete darkness outside the room where once was a sage green wall. "What the…" he murmured.

Tweek blinked rapidly, backing up a bit and gnawing on his lip. "Craig? Who is it?"

He stuck his head out of the door, glancing down the hall and seeing lights coming from the floor above and below through the stairwells. "Our floor's lights are out," he informed him in a murmur. "Not funny, Asshole!" he snapped out into the corridor.

Tweek gulped, fingers twisting nervously as he crept over to stand behind Craig and peek from around him to see for himself what they were dealing with. "How'd they g-get away so quick?!"

"It's dark; I probably just couldn't see 'em before they bolted," he assured him, reaching behind and rubbing his back a bit. He paused, hand resting on the small of Tweek's spine as another light scratching noise picked up speed. "What the fuck…" he murmured, stepping out into the hall and glancing around in the dark. "Get me my phone," he instructed.

He hesitated for a moment before doing as told, dashing over and snagging Craig's phone from off the charger plugged into the nightstand. Tweek rushed back over, shakily handing it to him and curling his fingers along the door trim, nails erratically clacking as he watched Craig through the minimal light from the room lamp spilling into the hallway.

Craig frowned, pressing against his phone but getting no response from the device. "Wasn't it plugged in?" he asked, shooting Tweek a small glance.

He nodded, "Yeah. I-is it dead?"

"I guess. Outlet must be shot," he muttered, handing it back to him and raising his head, neck craning as he continued listening to the scratching. His eyes squinted, the volume seeming to pick up and bear down around him. "What the living fuck _is that_?" he asked.

Tweek cocked his brow, looking around into the still darkness. He tilted his head, trying to pick up whatever it was Craig was experiencing. "What's… what?" he asked timidly, wondering if he _really_ wanted to know the answer.

"That fucking _noise_ ," he said, looking back into a bewildered expression. They stared at each other and Craig's eyes narrowed further into confusion. If _anyone_ could pick up strange noises, it was Tweek, the boy always on guard for things out of the ordinary. How he wasn't picking up whatever the hell was beginning to echo around them was far beyond Craig's comprehension.

"Craig… y-you're kinda freakin' me out, Man," Tweek said quietly.

He turned from his concern back down the hall, brow knitting. Placing a hand on the wall, he began to move his way down towards the source of the noise, feeling Tweek anxiously watching him descend into the darkness. His fingers traced along the drywall, following the ridges and dents until he landed on the next door down the way, trying to make some semblance of sight out of the nothingness. He could hear the raking getting heavier, reluctance and uncertainty keeping his pace nice and steady, free hand curling into a fist. If it was Kenny or Cartman pulling this shit, they weren't leaving this goddamn hotel with their nose in one piece.

A low, curious hum left his throat as he edged closer to the noise source, the rapidity jumping another few notches like a colony of mice begging to be let out of their confinement. A new round of sonorousness caught his attention, hearing it above his head. He stared up into the pitch blackness at the ceiling, blinking and his hand curling against the wall. A glance back the way he came hitched his breath, finding nothing but darkness where Tweek and the stairwell should have been. "Tweek? The lights go off?" he called. A few beats of silence passed, his chest twisting uneasily. "What the-" he started, head shooting back around as the scraping seemed to rush towards him, finding himself taking a few steps back in bewilderment as it edged closer and closer.

His hand jerked away from the wall as it caught up to him, _feeling_ something within the drywall. "Fuckin'… fuckin' must be mice," he muttered to himself, raking a hand through his hair and trying to ignore the abrasive echo. He took another look down the hall, trying to find any indication of Tweek's figure in the distance. A sudden bang, loud as a Black Cat firecracker, suddenly burst from the wall, decimating the scrawling and sending him jerking back in shock, heart pounding and breath stolen from his lungs.

The bashing continued, each one making Craig question whether something was going to fly through with the ferocity being exerted. He flinched, the same sound beginning to bear down from above him as well, his spine stiffening in loss. Not mice.

 _Definitely_ not mice.

He hesitated for but a moment before whirling around on his heel, taking long strides back towards from where he came and trying to outwalk the echoes dancing around him. Maybe another guest had come in, taking offense to mice in the wall and growing angry at their incessant noise, trying to scare them off… he glanced up suspiciously. Didn't explain the _ceiling_ noises, however, knowing the floor directly above him should just be an identical hallway. Someone stomping to get them away? No, no even Cartman jumping off a fucking three story building wouldn't make _that_ much noise. Picking up his pace and continuing to run his hand along the tremoring wall, he tried finding his way back to the room, eyes narrowing at the lack of any visibility.

Down the way, Tweek continued watching from around their doorframe into the blackness, gulping and shaking. "Craig?!" he tried again, wondering why the fuck he wasn't answering. It wasn't like him, never one for leaving Tweek to his mental devices in situations like this, never keeping him out of the know if he could avoid it. "Craig, c'mon! A-answer me!" he pleaded. A hand raised to his mouth, the keratin of his ring finger slipping between the enamel of his teeth, bearing down as hazelnut eyes darted. He gulped, stuck in an inner debate as to whether or not to brave the hall himself to track down his boyfriend. Tweek turned to look back into their room, spotting his own phone on the nightstand and bouncing a bit in consideration before pivoting and rushing towards it, ripping it off the charger.

He tried turning it on, teeth gritting as it refused to do so. That didn't make _sense_. He'd kept it charging in Clyde's van the entire trip, he _never_ let his phone die out, knowing that it was most often the only salvation should trouble arise. "Wh-what the hell?!" he shouted, looking at the outlet and swallowing down another noise of frustration. Maybe a fuse blew and it shorted out their phones. That _sounded_ like a plausible theory… He let out a panicked yelp as the device began to vibrate all at once, the plastic dropping from his hand and landing safely on the comforter.

He stared at it as it continued to rattle, no end in sight as a steady hum against the linen. The screen wasn't lighting, there was no telltale intermittent pause to indicate any kind of message. Nothing but a constant white noise as his heart thudded away from the shock of it all. "What the _hell_ ," he repeated, voice tremoring nearly as badly as his phone. His sight couldn't seem to tear away from the bizarre sight, watching as it slid along the bed back in the direction of the door, halted only by the bunched up fabric of the comforter.

Color caught his peripheral and he glanced up at the door, jerking back at Craig suddenly in the frame, looking just as unhinged as he felt. "Craig, what the fuck!" he shrieked. "Why weren't you answering me?!"

Craig blinked, unable to quite comprehend what he was spouting off. Still trying to wrap his head around stepping out of what seemed to be a cloak of shadows to all of a sudden see the door's lights again, wondering if that was something that was even fucking _possible._ "What are you talking about I didn't hear you say anything! Why didn't you tell me the power went off in here?!"

Tweek narrowed his eyes, unused to seeing Craig so emotive and strung out, "I-it didn't. But I think something's up with the outlet, look at my phone!" he gestured down, taking first notice of the vibration suddenly stopped, Craig walking up and looking down at the device.

"Yours dead, too?"

"I-I don't know?" he stammered, scratching through his thick hair. "It was just fucking vibrating and… and it wouldn't stop, but then it wouldn't turn on!"

Craig glanced between him and the phone, reaching down and picking it up, trying to get it to switch on. "Yeah, it's dead," he muttered. "Power must be fucked up. Maybe it's fucking with the pipes, too or something." His lips twisted, not sure if that even made an inkling of sense, but it was the only conclusion he could seem to draw. "Something was banging around like crazy. Maybe just the building being old."

Tweek gulped, clasping around himself and rubbing his hands up and down his arms. "M-maybe," he concurred, unable to figure out any lick of sense for himself. He glanced around, left eye twitching in the slightest. Craig took notice, heaving a deep sigh and closing the door softly behind him.

"Look, we just gotta sleep and we'll be out of here by about ten," he reminded him, tossing the phone back onto the bed and stepping up to him. He placed his hands reassuringly on his shoulders. "Let's just go to bed, all right? We'll try to charge our phones in the car and if that doesn't work, I'll pick us up one of those pay-as-you-go ones until we can get home and get replacements."

Tweek nodded briskly, "We'll go half-and-half on it."

Craig gave him the slightest quirk of a smile, turning him and leading him to the clean bed, watching him crawl into the far side and slip under the covers. He sighed, scratching through his hair and turning off the lamp, sliding in beside him and grunting softly as Tweek automatically scooched into his arms, both of them shifting to get comfortable and shed the pure anxiety of the last few minutes. Craig took a deep breath, nose burying into Tweek's hair and letting the smell of coffee beans swell over him, heartrate finally beginning to slow from his befuddling journey.

Slowly, quietly they let themselves sink into one another, telling themselves to let it roll off their backs for now, to pass it off as a weird story to tell the others about in the morning. Tweek sighed against Craig's chest, forehead pressing against his clavicle as he slowly began to drift off, exhausted from such a drastic mood shift. Craig held onto him tightly, tensing around him a bit and trying to ignore an already-too-familiar sound coming from behind their headboard.

_Scratch scratch scratch._

* * *

Full lips curled into a frown, eyes wincing as a comb valiantly struggled to defeat a knot wound within tight curls. Bebe sighed, shaking her head at herself as she continued working her way through blonde locks. She always knew this would happen, sex hair may be wonderful for a _partner_ to see and feel some pride, but dealing with it yourself was just _irritating._ Her hair was unruly enough on its own, it certainly didn't need the added assistance of sliding along a mattress or oily fingers gripping around follicles and making them nearly impossible to tame once again.

Then again, she supposed it didn't matter _too_ much. The only person who she truly cared about looking decent for was Token, and he certainly wasn't going anywhere. Besides, _no one_ looked good on a road trip. Makeup would smear in the heat of the car, clothes would plaster against bodies with sweat, everyone would have a collective smell about them that they only took notice of once they made it out into a clean building and hung their heads in shame at other travelers shooting them looks while simultaneously not exactly smelling like a rose garden themselves. A never-ending cycle of annoyance, but _worth it_.

She finally broke through the stubborn gnarl, continuing to gently work her wide-toothed pick through layer after layer of hair and smiling softly to herself. This trip was _so_ worth it. She was _beyond_ thrilled to tag along, so _so_ excited when Wendy had approached her asking if she and Token wanted to go. After all, she'd always loved going to new places, and a cross-country trip was the _best_ method to take for such a taste. A light hum left her, knowing that in only two weeks, if they stuck to their schedule, they'd be in Chicago, her getting to take the group to show them _just_ where she'd be going to school and all the places she'd be experiencing on a daily basis. A long way from home, but comfortably settled right in the middle of hustle and bustle with the outskirts being what could feel like her quiet hometown. She was thrilled to be getting away for a few years, not quite knowing where she'd end up at the end of it all, but just yearning for the experience nonetheless.

Bebe let out a content sigh, placing her pick on the counter and running her fingers through her hair to finish off what she was simply too tired to deal with right now. She just wanted to curl into bed with Token, get some sleep, and wake up to his head between her thighs as was such a _wonderfully_ consistent pattern when they were together. Then off to Yellowstone where she could listen to Wendy and Stan rant about the environment and watch Kenny dragging Kyle off behind trees and revel in everyone else just being themselves and bitching about nothing.

She loved it. She loved every _bit_ of it. Maybe it was just her natural need to be a social butterfly, finding some degree of comfort in even the more annoying aspects of their personalities. Well. Most of them at least. Cartman she had a hard time finding anything decent about, still unsure as to why he was even with them. But then again, if Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were around, so was he. He was just that annoying free accessory that came with the main product, one that you knew you didn't have any use for but you tossed into the junk drawer anyway just in case the need ever arose. But she was comfortable with that, getting a bit of a thrill watching any sexist remarks he made get instantly smacked down by the other boys while she and Wendy watched and smiled from the background. They were their boys, every single one of them, regardless of how much Craig tried to push them away or Tweek and Butters shied off from them.

And, in a sense, that broke her heart. She wasn't stupid, she and Wendy would keep in contact, which meant Stan would be around. If Stan was around, then Kyle was, too. And Kenny was _attached_ to Kyle so he'd be just as involved. But the others, she wasn't so sure. Cartman was headed off to Texas, and, knowing his and Kyle's tumultuous relationship, that tie would probably finally be severed once the obligation of seeing each other daily just due to proximity finally died. Token was headed off to Sacramento, clear across the country from her, both of them knowing that they'd more than likely end up finding other people in their separate cities. So she'd lose him, and Craig and Tweek would disappear with him. Clyde she had a _slight_ chance of hearing from now and again if she kept in contact with Annie. And Butters… well, they were never close to begin with so that wasn't too hefty of a loss. Just like Cartman, he was nothing but a freebie thrown into the package, one that she would leave behind while she dragged her essentials out to the Midwest.

Her shoulders sunk in the slightest, reaching over to her makeup bag and swiping out a travel pack of her skincare wipes, ripping one out of the hold and gently rubbing circles around her face. This trip was amazing, but getting back to South Park would be a nightmare. Reality would settle in, she'd be running out with Wendy shopping for dorm decorations, learning how to transfer her state license and how to get a new doctor and dentist. Life would start, and this pleasant bubble of unrealistic bliss would pop.

But that was for later. They were only a day into their trip. They had so much more to do in the next month and a half, and _that_ was what mattered.

She paused as the lights flickered above her, hazel eyes fleeting up to the bulbs in a running row above the mirror. A plucked brow slowly rose as they turned on and off one at a time like a visual metronome, keeping in rhythm with the steady, calmed pace of her heart.

"Huh," she murmured, shrugging to herself and finishing wiping the oils of the day off her face, tossing the wipe into the bin and snagging her moisturizer. She pumped a tiny dollop onto her finger, recalling as she did every morning and night her mother's words: _"More than a fingertip's worth makes you look like a hooker during mass, Sweetie!"_

She shook her head a bit, wondering why she continued to let that woman spout off such ridiculous things, much less allow them to get to her in any way. The life of a Stevens woman, she supposed. Big tits, pretty face, and a bubbling, strong personality to get her what she wanted out of the world. But, as Wendy had assured her time and again, Bebe rose above that. She used her advantages to do the _right_ things, like get herself a few extra tutoring sessions for free so she could pass that damn physics class when Wendy and Kyle didn't have time to assist her. Or like those few times she'd gone out for charitable donations in the lowest-cut shirt she owned, getting the Big Brothers Big Sisters program Kenny volunteered at a few extra hundred in cash and more old jackets than they knew what to do with. She was making it on her own, _regardless_ of how shiny her moisturizer made her forehead seem.

The lights flickered a bit more rapidly and she looked up at them with an annoyed huff. "This place is pathetic!" she called out a bit.

"What, Babe?" Token called from the bed, lounging on their bed with his eyes closed, drifting off to sleep from the comfort of being out of Clyde's goddamn van.

"The lights are going haywire. You'd _think_ if they didn't have much of a pull of customers they'd put their all into making this place _decent_ so guests would recommend them, you know?"

He snorted a bit, "They probably know it doesn't matter, Hon. Not too many people even _live_ in Wyoming, let along travel and stay here."

She nodded a bit, recapping her lotion. "True." Her eyes landed on a white smear running down through the side mirror that wasn't there before, blinking at it rapidly. Reaching forward, she dragged her finger over it, the mark looking like colored steam but not coming off with her touch. She squinted. It felt _cold_. "What is this?" she murmured, finger rubbing over it time and again before she pulled back with a cocked head. "Hmm," she mused, shrugging to herself and packing up her bag, pausing at movement catching her attention.

The smear suddenly bent like a beam of light, scurrying away from the glass and she jerked back in shock, whipping her head around behind her and seeing nothing, rubbing her eyes a bit. Tired. She must've been _much_ more tired than she believed she was. A long sigh left her and she glanced back, a soft crackling noise grabbing her attention. Long lashes fluttered as a crack slithered up the mirror, breaking off like branches as it made way up the silver surface and her jaw dropped a bit, backing away. "Token?" she called out softly.

The smudge appeared again, flittering around rapidly against the cracking glass, her head following it as it moved around and back off the mirror. Bebe gasped at a sudden chill racking through her as it left her sight, like something flowing through her all at once; like something trying to grab her attention.

"What's wrong?" Token called in sleepy response, Bebe not hearing him over a louder crack in front of her. She glanced back into the glass, barely managing a wisp of a breath as the wall behind the mirror pushed out with force. Another unfelt chill tugged against her, Bebe frozen and seeing nothing but a deafening mess silver exploding outwards, barreling towards her face.


	6. Chapter 6

It was nothing like one would imagine. Or at least in the split second she had to realize what'd happened, that's what Bebe thought.

A bit of rough pressure, nothing more than someone poking at you with a scolding, bony finger. She'd been on the receiving end of that from Wendy time and again, and a brief vision of her best friend's face came and went, glazed over and wiped away like condensation on glass. Her eyes had slammed shut, hands going to her face in reflex, trying to assess the damage done while still numbed down, while nerves and her mind still hadn't quite caught up to what had just occurred. Manicured nails tapped against her cheeks in a sporadic fashion, trembling with an unknowing anxiety. The world seemed to fall still at a warm stream hitting the sensitive nerves of her fingertips, thickly dripping in droves down her freshly scrubbed face. She wondered if she'd began crying and hadn't realized before the substance trailed down over her lips, tongue darting out and hit with the robust taste of iron.

It took maybe two or three seconds for it to kick in, for her brain to wander out of its bewildered state into one of utter panic. The pain didn't gradually crescendo, instead jumped right in as its entrance measure appeared on the page. She stumbled with a hoarse cry, hands trickling up her cheeks to her eyes, trying to pry them open and letting out a rasped screech at her inability to do so. Her fingers felt over her lids, feeling tiny bumps lying under the thin skin as her eyes began to rage with hot, white anguish and throb incessantly.

She tried gulping down a mouthful of air to scream for help, stopped at once with a violent choke. Her body crumpled forward and she fell hard onto her knees as that metallic taste completely overtook her, dripping down her tongue and past her teeth, steadily falling between full lips onto the cold tile beneath her. Fallen glass edged into her legs as she shifted and coughed, hands falling from her face to the ground and onto shards. She dug aimlessly through the shattered remains, fingers and palms nicked time and again as she tried to collect _some_ sense of her bearings. All at once she couldn't remember where she was, who she was with. She just knew that she was in pain, she could barely _breathe_. Footsteps shuffled from the other room, unable to hear them through her gurgling breaths, mouth hanging open as she attempted to drain the blood coalescing in her mouth.

Token's brow furrowed, wondering if she'd dropped another perfume bottle as he rounded the bed, hurrying towards the bathroom beyond the jutting wall between the sections of the room. "Bebe? You all right?" he called, not getting an answer and increasing his pace. He made way around the corner, jaw dropping at the bleeding, half-flailing girl on the floor. "BEBE!" he screamed, running towards her and diving down onto the tile beside her, taking no notice of the glass sliding up his shin as he tried to assess the situation.

His chest seized, eyeing the large fragment jutting from her throat, angled up under her chin. He reached for it, hand curling back and jaw trembling. He didn't know what to _do_. "Bebe? Bebe can you hear me?!" he begged, gripping her wrists to stop her from cutting her hands. Her palms twisted upwards grabbing his forearms and shaking them, a silent plea as some form of familiarity hit her with his calloused touch. She sobbed before launching into another coughing fit, feeling the air struggling to work its way up her windpipe around the lodged glass. Token's dark eyes widened as her nails dug into his skin and she thrashed his arms, needing help that he just didn't know how to _give_. He fleeted over the first aid class in high school they'd been required to take, the one he spent the majority of sending dirty texts to Bebe and only paying fleeting attention.

He did remember being told to leave puncture weapons _in_ , though. Or maybe not. He couldn't remember, he couldn't fucking _think_. All he could see was the red overtaking Bebe's face, the trails leaking from under her eyelids and dibbling off her chin onto the besmirched flooring. She let go of him, doubling over and dry heaving as her windpipe rattled with a vicious spasm.

"Bebe, I'm gonna get someone, okay?" he promised, squeezing her reassuringly before leaping to his feet and darting into the main room. He snatched his phone from the nightstand, hitting the power and heart sinking as it refused to switch on. "No, don't you fucking do this!" he snapped, trying to hold down the button and looking at Bebe's phone still lying in its spot. His eyes widened, an array of new cracks throughout her screen, sporadic and numerous enough to coat the glass in a layer of frosted white.

His attention turned back to his own device, blinking as it refused to cooperate, feeling a strange sensation on his hand. With the rapidity of lightning, a rush of scalding heat hit, scorching his palm, and he let out a pained scream. He threw the phone against the wall in his shock, bringing up his wounded hand and his jaw shook, a rectangular mark branded and blistering into his hand. He could hear Bebe continuing to cough and heave, looking towards their door and making a break for it. They were on floor five, and he knew who was on six, someone who _did_ pay attention in their goddamn health classes.

"Bebe, I'm getting someone, just hang on!" he pleaded, shouldering the door as he grasped the knob and twisted, groaning at pain rupturing through his wounded palm. He shook it off as he flew into the hallway, looking down the lighted corridor towards the staircase and dashing towards it. Adrenaline pumped madly through him, barely feeling the blood trickling down his leg as he slid to a stop and rounded up the stairs. "KYLE!" he screamed.

From their room, Kenny looked up at the sudden noise, muffled through their door and raising his brow, still trying to rub Kyle's migraine down and away from him. His hand stopped on Kyle's shoulder blade, Kyle burrowing his head deeper under his pillow with a whimper as the ringing seemed to quell in the slightest.

" _KYLE!"_ another shout ran, closer than before.

Kenny sat up, moving to hop over Kyle's balled-up form and towards the door, trying to stay quiet for his boyfriend's sake. He could hear rounds of thumping coming closer towards them, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Kyle let out a tiny groan, sliding his head out from its confinement and squinting in the darkness as Kenny crept away. "Ken?" he whispered, flinching as the noise came to another full-stop, the air eerily quiet without it.

They both yelped at a large round of beating against their door, Kenny hurrying towards it and ripping it open with a snarl. "Keep it down!" he whispered viciously at the panicked boy in front of him. "Ky has a migr-HEY!" he protested as Token shoved him aside, looking at Kyle slowly sitting up on the bed.

"Kyle, you need to get to my room NOW!" he shouted.

"I ain't lendin' 'im out, Token!" Kenny drawled, half a step away from punching the guy's lights out for barging in like this.

Kyle blinked at the frenzy in his tone, feeling the urgency and sliding out of the covers, grabbing his bag and ripping out pajama bottoms and his slippers. He hopped around hurriedly trying to dress himself, finally finding some of his bearings again with the noise halted. "Token, what happ-"

"NOW!" he screamed, ripping at his short hair. "BEBE'S HURT I NEED YOU **NOW**!" he gestured for them to follow and tore out of their room.

The other two froze and looked at each other for a split second before Kyle slammed on his second slipper and they launched forward, breaking into sprints to follow after him. Kenny stepped out of the way for Kyle to take the lead as they rushed towards the staircase, the floorboards under the thin carpet creaking with their rushing steps. Kyle swung around the railing with Kenny on his tail as they skipped steps on their way down, hearts pounding in trepidation of what was waiting for them as Token stood outside an open door, teeth clattering and eyes welled with frenzied tears. "She's in the bathroom!" he croaked out. Kyle glanced at a gleam that caught his eye from Token's leg, noting the blood trailing down his dark skin and his heart lurched, speed increasing and whipping straight into the room.

He rounded to the right, coming to a stop at the bloodied, choking sight in the bathroom and his jaw dropping, barely noticing as Kenny slammed into him. Kenny looked up, mouth falling agape all the same. "Oh my god!" he screeched.

His voice brought Kyle down from his shock, running forward and sliding down beside of Bebe as she coughed and clawed aimlessly. "Bebe, Bebe it's just me," he assured her, putting a hand on her forehead and raising her just slightly, green expanding as his pupils slammed into pinpoints, staring at the lodged mirror piece and the blood dripping down her face and chest. _"Oh god_ ," he whispered, helping her tilt her head back down and rubbing her back as she tried to cough, clutching onto him, nails digging deep enough in her fear to break skin. He let her take a hold of his arm and maim it as needed, looking at the boys watching him in shock.

"Token, call 911, now!" he demanded.

"Our phones are fucking broken! I tried!" he insisted, breath shaking as he watched Bebe clawing so desperately.

"Then go to our room, ours are in my bag. GO!" he ordered, Token nodding and turning on his heel, heading out the door.

Kenny gulped, seeing the wheels of Kyle's head turning as he tried to pet Bebe down. "Ky? Ky what do I do?" he pleaded.

"Go get Wen-" he paused, shaking his head. "No. Not Wendy, she can't see this and function... Get _Cartman_ and send him up here."

He blinked, "Cartman?"

"I need someone who can handle blood and strong enough to help me carry her out of here!" he snapped. "Get him, then the rest of you get the first aid kit from Stan's truck and send Butters and Tweek to find the manager. Do _not_ let Wendy up here!"

"No promises, but I'll try," he nodded, dashing back and out of the room.

Kyle watched after him before looking back at Bebe as she cried out through a rasp, tugging him closer. "Shhh, shhhhhh," he tried, heart racing as he eyed the damage. "Bebe, we're getting you help," he promised.

She could barely hear him over the strained, thunderous pounding of her heart. She flinched as another choking spell wracked through her, dragging Kyle with her as she bent forward. He wordlessly continued to attempt cooing her down, scanning over her wounds and watching her spit up another wad of blood, a frothy mess splattering onto the gleaming, _taunting_ shards beneath their legs. They splayed under them like glitter, like false promises as they were tainted with pinkened saliva and minute reflections of the raging fear throughout Kyle's face. He kept his arm in Bebe's grasp steady as he reached up onto the counter and snagged the discarded hand towel, bringing it up just under her punctured throat. He bit his lip, pressing just slightly up under the lodged glass.

This was tricky, he didn't know just what the glass had _hit_. He didn't know if he could take it out or if that would just exacerbate the problem. "Bebe, I got you," he tried, wincing as she clutched around him, nails delving deep into his waist and arm. "We're gonna get you help," he echoed. He glanced towards the open door, jaw trembling. He needed an ambulance's advice, and he needed more hands to help him with this. _'Fucking_ _ **hurry**_ _,_ ' he prayed, feeling Bebe's arms shaking so violently around him.

Even with what limited knowledge he had, watching her skin fading into pallor and the sweat beginning to dot her pores, he could more than easily tell: She didn't have time to wait.

* * *

He had no idea why he'd even come on this trip.

He didn't like Stan, Token, Craig, or Tweek. Bebe and Wendy pissed him off with their blathering. Butters was a goddamn parasite. He _loathed_ Kyle and Kenny.

But, he figured, he just needed something to get him the fuck out of South Park. Got him away from his mother and her _boyfriend_ at the very least. He didn't have to stand there as a man who'd only been in their lives for a year tried commanding some ounce of authority over him, as though he'd earned the right to so much as call him _Eric_ , let alone tell him to respect his mother when they were in one of their spats. He hated what his home had become: Nothing but a cesspool of reminders that they were a broken family, and Liane was trying to shoddily repair the damage done with the flimsiest of adhesives. Her new _beau_ , Mark (Mike? Mitch?), he wasn't sure which, never having bothered to cement it very deeply into his expansive list of known acquaintances. He'd figured after the first few dates, seeing his disheveled black hair and mellow attitude, that his mother would grow _bored_ of him and dump his sorry ass.

But, he remained. So, Cartman decided, _he_ needed to go. Applied to whisk himself away to San Antonio for nothing more than general courses. Anything to put some space between him and his changing childhood home, his evolving maternal figure. Everyone else that he'd been remotely close to sans Butters and Kenny as far as he knew were venturing out into the world after this summer, he figured that he wasn't someone to be left behind. He would just go the opposite direction of the rest of them, get himself out of the snowy hellhole that had so long kept the lot of them hostage and break into a new world where he could actually make something of himself down the road. There wasn't much branching out to be done in a redneck mountain town, especially trapped with a disgusting, blossoming romance occurring in his living room.

"H-hey, Eric?" a timid voice called out into the darkness from across the nightstand.

He sighed irritably, considering feigning a snore before realizing that was just far more effort than it was worth. "What?"

"Are ya gonna come home on holidays?"

He scoffed, "Why the fuck would I? Christmas is gonna be like, eighty degrees down in Texas, why would I want to come back to have windchill fuck me in the ass? _Some_ of our associates may be into that kind of thing, but I ain't one of 'em."

Butters bit his cheek, nodding slowly. Well, he wasn't wrong. Used as they all were to the frigid temperatures of home, they all loved getting out into actual daylight and warmth now and then, letting themselves ditch their jackets and hats and letting their sun-deprived skin taste the air. "Ain't your mom gonna be sore?"

"She's sore enough from all her canoodling on my couch," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not comin' back."

He pouted, hands above his comforter and resting on his stomach, fingers beginning to fiddle aimlessly. "Ain't ya gonna miss us?"

"Butters, only four of you are even stayin' there, and Po'Boy is only doing so because his ass can't afford to go next door, let alone another state."

"…He always goes next door. Kyle lives next door to 'im."

He barked out a short laugh, "And you think his dowdy ass can afford actual entrance into their little Jew clan? Just because Kahl puts out for free doesn't mean his bitch mom will let it keep happening. They'll be done soon as Jewboy is off with the other rich fags and sees he can score himself someone with a dick _and_ money."

"That's awful rude, Eric," he quietly lectured, as though it would make an iota of difference. Certainly hadn't in the last decade, and it wasn't about to start now, but it was just habitual at this point. Butters had become the group's undesignated ambassador of telling Cartman to back off when no one else was around. If Stan or Kyle weren't there to punch him in the face, or Kenny or Wendy weren't there to yell him down, he had to step in and try to divert his spiteful tongue. It'd been a strange collective effort between the six of them for years, the two couples and Cartman trailing around with one another, Butters just with them by default, though even he had no idea why. Wendy and Kyle were great at feigning smiles and interest in what he said, Stan and Kenny just outright ignored him. And Cartman… well, he was just never much of a best buddy to have, just using him as he saw fit for whatever he was up to at the time. But Butters just took what he could get, it kept him from getting the shit kicked out of him throughout high school for the most part being interwoven with their 'clique'. "I'm sure everyone would miss ya if ya never came home," he shrugged to himself.

He scoffed, "Please. They're glad I'm leaving and I'm glad to not see them again."

"Then why'd ya come?"

"Because, _Butters_ , otherwise I'd just be sitting at home doin-" he paused, both of them sitting up at the rapid sound of thumping and shouting coming towards them down the hallway. "The fuck?" Cartman squinted, swinging his legs out of the bed and walking to the door, tearing it open and hissing in the light, raising his arm to block some of the painful beams splashing over his eyes. He glanced down the hall at Kenny frantically pounding on doors. "Po'Boy!" he snapped. "None of us wanna see you and Kahl suckin' cock, so don't fuckin' ask!" He paused, Kenny looking at him with a paled face and horrified eyes. It was a rare expression, one Cartman had only seen a handful of times. Once when he misheard someone and mistakenly believed his little sister was in a car accident. Once when Kyle collapsed playing basketball from a large drop in his blood sugar. And once when they were kids and at his house, Cartman accidentally knocking over a full bottle of whisky and watching it shatter on the kitchen floor. Kenny had shoved him out the front door as soon as his dad's voice had perked up from his room, and Cartman could see nothing but that terrified expression for the days following when Kenny came into school with poorly hidden bruises and a hanging, shamed head.

"Cartman… Cartman you have to go to floor five!" Kenny begged, running up to him and shaking his shoulders. "Bebe's really hurt, Kyle needs your help! Please!"

He shook his head and blinked, trying to absorb the frantic plea and shoving him off him. He leaned against the frame, crossing his arms and smirking superiorly, "So, the great and independent Kahl needs _my_ hel-"

"IGNORE THAT PART, BEBE IS SUPER HURT!" he screeched, tearing at his hair. "Go help Kyle move her, **please**! You can rip on him after she's okay, just fucking go!"

"W-what happened, Ken?" Butters poked his head out of the door, puzzled at the pure emotion spilling out of Kenny, the tears welled in his eyes and the rapid rises and falls of his chest.

"I don't _know_. Cartman, GO!" he shouted, grabbing his t-shirt and ripping him out of the room, shoving him towards the stairs.

Cartman stumbled, looking back with a glare before sighing dramatically. " _Fine_ ," he rolled his eyes, making way towards the steps. "If this is another fuckin' trick to see one of your goddamn pornos, I'm crushing your skull, Po'Boy," he informed him, ambling his way down the hall.

"FUCKING FASTER THAN THAT!" Kenny screamed.

"ALL RIGHT DON'T GET YOUR PANTIES TWISTED, GOD!" Cartman snapped back, lightly picking up his pace and hitting the stairwell, making his way up with an annoyed sigh.

Kenny grabbed Butters' collar, shaking him. "You, you go find the fucking manager," he demanded. See if they can get an ambulance here and if they have a first aid kit. I'll get Tweek to come find you and help you look if you can't find 'em. Understand?!"

Butters nodded, eyes wide with terror at the urgency firing through light irises. "I-is she gonna be okay?" he managed to squeak as Kenny released his shirt.

Kenny's lip trembled, shuddering at the faint smell of blood still lingering in his sinuses. "I don't know," he said. "But quicker you find Bub or whatever, the more of a chance she has, now GO!" he shoved him away, speeding through their room and bathroom, pushing his way through Clyde's door and shouting for him to get up. Butters watched him and gulped before turning on his heel and making good on his assignment, rushing towards the stairs and heading down the way.

His heart was racing, his mind overwhelmed with the ambiguity of what he was told. Kenny was one of the most down-to-earth, relaxed people that he knew. When he was panicking, Butters had well learned that _everyone_ should be panicking. And he wasn't about to leave that lifelong truth, his own jaw shaking as he stepped onto the stairs and made his way noisily down towards the lobby.

He grunted, hopping onto the tiled floor and looking at the front desk, seeing it barren and gulping. His head pivoted, heart dropping at the two hallways extending down on either side of the building, the plethora of doors to test and the massive trial that he now faced.

"Oh… oh _hamburgers_."

* * *

Token's teeth ground against themselves as he flipped on the light to Kenny and Kyle's room, scanning the floor with a gulp before landing on Kyle's worn messenger bag and rushing towards it. He lifted it onto the bed with a wince, tearing open the flap and shifting through carefully packed Ziplocs of toiletries and books. Patience running thin, he growled, turning the bag upside down and dumping the contents all onto their bed. His jaw tremored in anxiety as he frantically pulled away supplies and set them out of sight of the rest of the group.

"C'mon, c'mon," he urged, knowing every goddamn second mattered right now.

Dark eyes flew over the inventory until widening as they landed on two black devices packed away in a sandwich bag. He tore open the plastic with gusto, snagging Kenny's phone and trying to turn it on. He blinked, flinching as the phone came apart at once in his hand, falling into three pieces onto the bed. "What the FUCK?!" he shouted, staring at the disassembled screen and the fallen battery. He tried grabbing for the back case to piece it together again, hand flying back towards himself with a sharp sting rushing down his finger. He yelped, looking at a thin cut oozing in the slightest on the edge of his index finger. His breath began to quake, knowing _damn_ well his finger was wrapped under the smooth, _edgeless_ backing.

Didn't matter, time was of the essence, he reminded himself, going and snatching up Kyle's phone.

He nearly cried in relief as it switched on with ease to Kyle's geometric background. With haste, he opened the keypad, punching in 911 and running his burnt hand up through his hair, barely feeling the irritation in his stress. He held the device up to his ear, hearing a series of beeps before they came to a stop, the line clicking and a faint voice on the other end of the line that he couldn't quite make out.

He narrowed his eyes, "H-hello?" he called, hearing that garbled, faint reply on the other end. "My name is Token, we have someone severely hurt at the uh… The Star hotel?" he pleaded. "It's somewhere in Wyoming, I don't know where, but _please_. My girlfriend is bleeding, her throat has glass in it, send someone!" He paused, squinting as he tried to make out the sounds coming from the phone. "Hello? Can you hear me?!" he shouted.

Token paused, straightening up as a steady, long tone began to seep through the device. "What the-" he stopped, wincing as the tone grew louder at a rapid pace, yelling and tossing the phone onto the bed. The pitch continued to crescendo upwards, Token backing away from it as it began to sound as though it wasn't even coming from the phone anymore. It echoed around him as though standing beside of him, the timbre increasing with each passing moment. It grew and grew, filling the room, stifling him within it. His ears seemed unaffected, the noise no more than irritating, not painful and dragging him down. Just stilling him, just _bewildering_ him.

He balked and fell back as the noise stopped at once with a thunderous _pop_ , Token watching from the floor with a dropped jaw as Kyle's phone gave way to the noise, the screen blowing outwards and shattering into specks that glinted in the overhead light. He stared, speechless, as the world fell back into silence, the fragments falling around the room and leaving him frozen in complete confusion and terror.

His throat convulsed with a gulp, body trembling as he remained staring at the bed with the destroyed phones, with their chance at a rescue. With a cracking, wavering voice, he whispered, " _What the fuck is happening?"_


	7. Chapter 7

The open door down the hall seemed to be _pulsing_ , and Cartman felt a tepid wave of dread washing over him. Maybe it was Kenny's tone and expression, maybe it was because _Kyle_ of all people wanted his help. But he didn't know. Something felt _wrong_ , that iron smell of the halls was more pertinent, was making damn sure that he knew of its presence as he quickly plodded his way towards Token and Bebe's room. A shiver ran down his back, squinting at hair falling into his peripheral and catching the light, a set of white lines streaking across the side of his face as though saying _"hurry"._

He pushed the follicles back and frowned, moving to the open door and hesitating as he heard coughing and Kyle's panicking murmurs. He squinted. If Kyle was frantic, _something_ had to be prompting it. Overemotional in typical situations or not, medical emergencies were the _one_ place Kyle knew how to keep his calm, knew that getting himself worked up only endangered whoever needed the help. So, something had to have gone _terribly_ awry.

Cartman took a deep breath, stepping through the threshold of the room and feeling an immediate chill, a shudder rolling down his spine as he shot his head towards the source of the sound, jaw dropping. "Holy _shit!"_ he spat.

Kyle looked up at him, pupils pinpoints and skin gone pallid. "Cartman, Cartman help me get her into the main room!" he pleaded. "There's too much glass in here!"

Cartman blinked once. Twice.

He snarled, "CARTMAN!" he shouted, wincing at Bebe clutching onto him tighter at his outburst. "Please!"

He shook himself out of his complete daze, nodding curtly and hurrying his way into the bathroom, barely able to squeeze in as Kyle helped Bebe pivot for her head to lean against his chest. "Okay," he nodded to himself, moving up to kneel as Cartman grabbed around Bebe's legs, eying the glass lodged in her windpipe with a building nausea. "On three," he directed, Cartman once more nodding in silence. "One, two, three!" he called, both standing and supporting her weight in their arms. Kyle nodded him to move backwards, both genially sliding their slipper-covered feet through fragments and moving her with care to get her out of the warzone. "We gotcha, Bebe, we gotcha," Kyle promised, forcing down a crack in his voice.

Cartman couldn't help but stare at the small bulges lingering under her eyelids, the trails of red leaking from the ducts like some demonic possession scene from the movies he, Stan, Kyle, and Ken would rent over the weekends to rip on while they got plastered. Maybe that was all she needed, he pondered: A priest to come in and splash some holy water around and make the demons and Kyle hiss and sink into the beyond. He grunted as he bashed against the doorframe trying to get her out with awkward maneuvering, Kyle struggling to hold her head up high against his chest. They got her into the bedroom, Kyle looking at her and struggling to think of the best solution.

"We should lay her down," Cartman suggested.

Kyle shook his head, "No, no, we need to sit her _up_. Have to keep the wounds above the heart," he muttered almost to himself, trying to run through snippets of first-aid knowledge, feeling it all blending together in his panic. They moved to an open area of the floor, setting her down to keep leaning against Kyle. Cartman pulled his hand back from her leg, face scrunching at a heavy glob of blood from her calf sliding down his palm. He glanced up, seeing Kyle's lips moving as he thought through the options, trying to keep petting a coughing Bebe down and tilt her head enough for her to spit blood when needed.

"Kahl, _think_ ," Cartman ordered.

"What the _fuck_ do you think I'm doing?!" he hissed, grabbing Bebe's hand as it flailed for him and holding it tightly within his fingers. "Okay, okay, help me turn her to lean against me." Cartman heaved a frustrated breath, reaching forward and doing as requested to pivot Bebe around and rest her forehead down against his bare shoulder. Kyle winced, having to shift to keep the shard in her throat from poking his skin and being forced deeper into her neck. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he murmured, jaw clattering. "I-I don't know… what…"

"You're studyin' _physiology_ , why the _fuck_ don't you know what to do here?!"

"Exactly! Physiology! Not fucking emergency medical services, you retard!" he snapped, Bebe choking out a whine and clasping onto him tighter. He gulped, nodding a bit. "Sorry, Bebe, I'm sorry," he whispered, petting through her hair. She was limbering in his hold; the clock was ticking down. Where the hell was the ambulance?! "Cartman, come here and help get the glass you can reach off her face."

"How is that gonna-"

"Every. Bit. Helps," he said through gritted teeth. Even if it did nothing, it was a distraction for Bebe, it was time that he could use to think, to run through his anatomy classes and figure out where the hell in her throat the glass had hit. Last thing he wanted to do was tear it out and sever her jugular, the mirror may be the only thing keeping her from drowning. He genially pivoted her head until she whimpered in discomfort and he stopped, motioning for Cartman to scoot over beside them and start picking shards off her face, discarding them in a pile in front of the nightstand. "Shhhh," he coaxed as she shook, whether from fear or blood loss, Kyle couldn't tell, was _terrified_ to know. "We gotcha," he promised, eyes clenching a bit and picking more debris off her arm. "Bebe, we got help on the way," he swore. "You're gonna be just _fine_."

He and Cartman caught stares, Cartman reading the pure distress raging through glassed green eyes, an utter look of _helplessness_. It was a look he himself _adored_ prying out of Kyle, a rarity for him to procure and a treat when he got what he worked for. But here, it was too _real_. This wasn't an expression of a humiliating defeat by his rival by missing a vital block and getting slammed into the side of the school. This wasn't him losing all patience at the end of battling Cartman's antisemitism until he finally just couldn't argue anymore out of exhaustion, Kenny and Stan having to pry him away. This was terror. This was a real and true _fear_ that he was holding a girl minutes from death, that he would be the last voice she heard, that he _couldn't save her_.

It was ridiculous, Cartman thought. Her life was not Kyle's responsibility. But he knew his longtime _frienemy_ well enough to know Kyle took _everyone's_ well-being into his own hands and let it weigh him down. It was why he was distancing himself from all but Kenny and Stan. It was why he was one of the lasts to agree to go on this trip, only convinced when cornered by the rest of the mob. It was why he had to start paying closer attention to his blood pressure to avoid another bout of low sugar nearly sending him to the hospital. He'd heard Kyle ranting to Kenny a few days before school had ended, how he was so exhausted between working so hard for his finals and everyone coming to him for fucking college advice, as though _he_ knew what they were in for. _"I can't wait to get rid of all these people, ya know? I-I just want… you and me and Stan. Maybe Bebe and Wendy since they're not always annoying me. Or hell I'll take just_ you _and live in a fuckin' cabin in the woods or some shit, I can't be their collective_ mother _anymore. I'm so tired, Kenny. I'm just so fucking tired."_

As Cartman watched Kyle struggling to figure out a course of action and keep a fading Bebe from leaving him entirely, he wondered if Kyle was thinking about what he had said. If he'd willingly hand over the role of the doting, overprotective parent to anyone who'd offer it in this situation. Or maybe he'd get worse, clinging around Bebe, unable to believe anyone else could fully shelter her, give her what she needed in this drastic time.

"Oh _god_!" a high shriek erupted, the boys looking to see a horrified Wendy standing in the doorframe, hands clasped over her mouth and gray eyes wide.

" _Dammit, Kenny_ ," Kyle hissed. "Wendy, get _out_ ," he pleaded, "You don't wanna see this!" He looked down at Bebe flailing her arm towards the direction of Wendy's voice, coughing another spattering of blood onto Kyle's chest.

Wendy broke out into a quick succession of sobs, rushing over and diving beside of Kyle, both holding her between their arms and letting her cling. "What happened?!" she begged.

"I-I don't know," Kyle stammered. "I told Ken to keep you out!"

"H-he said _you_ were hurt," she explained, rubbing Bebe's shoulder, brushing leaking tears and blood off her best friend's cheek. Not the right color, she thought. Bebe _hated_ such dark reds. They didn't go with her complexion. "He told me to go downstairs but… but if _you_ were the one hurt then no one else would know how to _help_ you. I ran off before he could stop me."

Kyle shook his head, watching the severe tremoring of her arms and stopping her from trying to pry glass out of Bebe's skin. "No, you're too shaky, you could make it worse. Just… just hold her and talk to her," he instructed, he and Cartman going to work on removing what they could with steady reserve, Wendy turning her attention to the stifled cries of Bebe.

"We're right here, Honey," she promised through a trembling lip. "We're all right _here_ , okay? It's gonna be all right…" she caught a glimpse of the boys' faces, heart lurching at how Kyle and Cartman, the two who couldn't so much as agree on a _pizza topping_ , had reached the same heart-wrenching consensus: They were running out of time. And fast.

* * *

Stan cursed as he nearly tripped his way down the stairs of the second flight, Ken catching him by the shoulder before continuing to lead the way on. His heart was pounding, still reeling from being pried from between Wendy's legs by a desperate beating against his door and Kenny screaming for them to get out and help them.

"What happened to him?!" he asked for the sixth time as they made it down the stairs, landing in the front lobby and looking around for help.

Kenny shook his head, still trembling. "It wasn't Ky. Was Bebe. Lied. For Wendy… ran…" he murmured, unable to keep a thought straight. He could only see the pure panic of Kyle's eyes, hear the bubbling sounds of frothing blood splashing against tiled floor. He wanted to puke, he wanted to don his Mysterion cape from childhood, be the hero that got the situation under control at the end of the day no matter what. He wanted this to just be a _nightmare_.

"First aid kit," Stan got them both back on track from their reeling thoughts, both darting to the double doors and running against them, yelping and stumbling back when the glass refused to budge. "What the fuck?!" he shouted, moving to scan with Kenny for a lock.

Kenny blinked, "Stan, why is there no keyhole?"

"What?"

"No keyhole," he repeated, pointing underneath the handle.

He cocked his brow. "There… there's gotta be _something_ ," he insisted, both grabbing the door handles and shaking the barrier, baffled by the lack of _any_ give. "What the fuck," he repeated, sharing a look with an equally bewildered Kenny. They moved to run their fingers along the doorframe, praying for a switch of some kind to run across.

A clean sweep sent them both moving back, eyes narrowing. "Did… did they _lock us in?"_ Kenny asked.

"No. No we… we gotta be missing _something_ ," he frowned. "Maybe it's an electronic lock."

"Seems like a fuckin' fire code violation," he muttered before shaking his head and running his fingers up through disheveled hair in frustration. "Fuck we gotta get the damn kit! She's bleedin' like fuckin' crazy!"

Stan took a shaking breath and nodded, knowing that Wendy was up there watching her best friend suffering through something awful enough to have chill-toned Kenny thrown into a persistent panic. He couldn't _imagine_ how he'd be doing were the roles reversed, if Kenny's lie had turned out to be true and Kyle was the one bleeding out on the floor. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle such a thing, having enough trouble seeing people he _didn't_ care about bleeding. Stan could only pray that Wendy stayed true in their comparison against one another and could keep strong for Bebe's sake. "Okay… okay uh…" They both perked and turned their heads at the sound of footsteps coming their way, looking to see Token panting from dashing down all the flights of steps, a hand on his side and a pained wince over his face.

"Can't… phone," he rasped out, Stan and Kenny pivoting to run up beside him.

"What?" Kenny asked, helping stand him back up straight.

He shook his head, "Can't… find _phone_ ," he begged. "All… _broken_."

Stan narrowed his eyes, shaking away the pure _ridiculousness_ of such a statement, not allowing himself to weigh the coincidental factors playing into what he was telling them. "Okay, maybe there's one down here," he said, all of them turning to look towards the front desk before darting towards it. Kenny leaped behind the desk, searching along the long-running shelf beneath the countertop for any sign of what they needed.

"How is there no phone?!" he demanded, shoving aside armfuls of binders and letting them collapse onto the floor and spread out pages without so much as a glance.

"You're kidding," Token coughed, moving to kneel beside of him, taking in the shelving scope for himself, thick brows furrowing. "What the fucking _shit_?!" he shouted, Kenny cringing from the proximity allowing his voice to reverberate sharply against his eardrum. They stood, looking at Stan on the other side and all three of them unable to properly figure out what course to take from where they'd been left.

"We gotta get outside," Stan finally said. "If there's no phone, one of us needs to just drive like _hell_ to the next town and get someone. We gotta break down the fucking doors."

"Right," the other two nodded, coming back around beside him, crouching a bit alongside one another.

"Okay," Stan breathed, knowing he and Token at least had a _chance_ of breaking them down with nearly a lifetime of football on their shoulders, but scrawny shortstop Kenny didn't have much to go on. Every bit helped, he supposed. "One, two, three!" he counted off, the group running and turning to lead with their right shoulders, gritting their teeth as they dashed towards the glass. A dark, violet flash erupted in their eyes before they made contact, unable to stop themselves in time from colliding against it. They all yelped as soon as they hit the anomaly, tossed back against the thin carpeting and sliding to pained stops.

They sat up, jaws trembling and chests heaving with labored fright. "What the _fuck_ was that?!" Kenny demanded. "You saw it, too, right?!"

The others nodded, all of them slowly meandering their way back onto their feet. Token gulped, "It won't let us leave."

"What's _it_?" Stan demanded.

He shook his head, "I-I don't know, but we all fuckin' saw it. It's gotta be _something_. Security measures or some shit… Fuck, what do we do?! We can't get a fuckin' ambulance!"

Kenny walked up to the door, trying to merely slap his palm against it with that same spark flaring and sending him reeling back, Stan and Token diving to catch him before he crumpled into an uncoordinated heap. "That's some futuristic fuckin' security," he said shakily, getting back up straight and looking at the two beside him. "We can't do shit here," he declared. "Stotch and Tweek are lookin' for the managers, we'd just be covering their tracks," he gestured to the hallways along the back wall. "Let's just get back upstairs and see what they need us to do. Maybe one of them got to a phone a-and can tell them to bring someone to ram down the fuckin' doors."

They looked at one another, then back towards the stairs, Stan gulping and giving a brisk nod. They were treading water down here, and he had no idea what they were even in a panic _for_. Judging by the cold sweat and trembling of Token and Kenny, however, he could make a fairly good guess. "Yeah," he finally breathed out. "They might need us."

* * *

The room was too crowded, and Kyle had never felt such _pressure_ bearing down on him as the four others in the room watched him for what to do and Bebe weakly clawed onto him, _begging_ for his help. He just didn't know what to _do_. He could handle simple cuts, he knew what to do if one of them was choking, he knew how to fashion a splint. But _this_ … He just didn't _know_. She was losing too much blood, he didn't know if he could take out the fucking glass, he didn't know if there was help on the way that he could keep her holding on for.

He kept his hands and lips busy, peeling out tiny embedded shards in the front of her shoulder around her camisole, trying to keep talking, trying to keep her comprehension straight as she choked. He cringed as he shifted her a bit between his and Wendy's arms, seeing the saline mess of tears and blood pouring down her cheeks, seeing how _ashen_ she was. His eyes flickered to Craig and Clyde standing at the far side of the room, not knowing what they could do. Craig lightly hit Clyde's arm as he stifled a sob, trying to keep the turmoil focused where it needed to be.

Bebe couldn't keep her head straight. She didn't know where she was, could only latch onto whatever was holding her like her only hope at pulling herself out of the swelling ocean. Her lungs were burning, like acid gushing through her bronchi. Her vision was gone, only seeing the searing red of pain and shock, wishing she could see who was with her, why she felt like she did. Slowly, the red gained a vignette. Black mist surrounded her, beginning to close in. _"Curtain call,_ " she thought. The words made little sense in her frantic state, but they felt _right_. Gradually, it coated over her, wrapped her in a blanket of bewilderment. It told her to fight and to just stay still all the same, and she couldn't decipher which side was screaming with more intensity. She felt like a brick, weighed down like chilled oatmeal ready to fall in a solidified block from its hold. She eked out another hard-fought breath before slumping, taking her bow.

Kyle's fogged concentration broke with an increase of weight against his shoulder, he and Wendy looking at Bebe with wide eyes and dropping hearts. "Bebe?" Wendy squeaked, squeezing her arm and shaking it. "Bebe, wake up!" she screamed.

Kyle gritted his teeth, maneuvering awkwardly to get his fingers against Bebe's rapid pulse. "She's unconscious," he muttered, eyes flittering around. He had to make a decision and he had to make it _now_. She could have only _seconds_.

He looked up at a mob of color entering the room, locking stares with Kenny's heartbroken face. "Ambulance?!" he begged.

Token shook his head, unable to look at Bebe still deadweight against them. "N…no… phone."

"Kahl… just… put her down. No ambulance, no chance," Cartman decided in a murmur, wincing at Bebe's gurgling breaths getting slower with each round.

"NO!" Wendy shouted, chest heaving. "We have to do _something!"_

Kyle gulped, nodding briskly. "Yeah. Yeah something." That glass staying in was killing her, and it would finish the job without a doubt with how fast she was starting to limber further. Maybe there was a _chance_ that they could pressurize the wound and get her back up. "Craig, tear up the pillowcase, I need a strip," he directed, Craig immediately moving to do as told. "All right, all right," he nodded, eyes unblinking and his own heart beating fast enough for his chest to ache. "Wendy, back the fuck up."

"I'm _not_ -"

"Wendy, NOW!" he screamed at her, Kenny diving down to pull her up and out of Kyle's way through her sobbing protests. He ignored her yelling at him that he needed her help, knowing that she was too fucking unstable to do anything but risk making this worse. Given, he wasn't so confident that he wouldn't be committing the same level of damage. "Cartman, help me," he jerked his head, Cartman silently clambering over beside of him. "Okay, we need to… angle her so she doesn't choke as much," he muttered, the two of them maneuvering to get her tilted against Cartman and leaving Kyle's hands free to work. "Craig, pillowcase!" he demanded.

Craig sneered, fighting with the fabric's seams. He glanced over towards the tableside lamp, reaching in and snagging the bulb, hurriedly untwisting it from the socket. "Now isn't the time to fuck with the lights, Craig!" Kenny snapped, still struggling to keep a hold on the squirming Wendy.

"Shut _up_ , McCormick!" he bit, ripping his target out from the shade and moving to slam the bulb against the corner of the nightstand by the base. Cartman flinched at a shower of shards hitting the back of his neck.

"Because _that's_ what we need!" he yelled, looking up at Craig stabbing through the cotton with the jagged remains. "More fuckin' glass!"

He snarled, cutting up hurriedly through the casing enough to put his hands through and tear the remainder. "Don't question my methods, Fatass-"

"NOT NOW!" Token screamed, tearing at his hair. "JUST SAVE HER!"

Craig nodded, lips pursing shut as he managed at last to rip off a strip of edging and hand it off to Kyle. Kyle bit his tongue, looking at the glass jutting from Bebe's neck and the rush of blood coming from beneath. "Okay," he whispered. He reached forward, nearly touching the stained mirror before Bebe lurched forward, Cartman barely able to keep a hold on her from his surprise.

Her mouth gaped, unable to find air through her constricting throat. Her lungs fought to give her oxygen, body failing to respond correctly and her severed epiglottis refusing to close. Blood poured, diverted from stomach to lungs and filling them _fast_. There was too much to take care of, there was too much that her brain couldn't keep up with to keep her functioning. She gagged, unable to find the air she needed and take it in, her heart pounding loud enough to echo throughout her throbbing head. Bebe's body was on fire, and it was done trying to extinguish, knowing it had no choice but to sit back and watch her smolder away into nothing but kindle.

Already too far gone to notice, her body hit its breaking point, heart coming to a sudden stop as it used up the last bit of oxygen it could find. Her throat ceased its convulsing, lungs momentarily spastic as they demanded sustenance before simmering into stillness with the rest of her.

Cartman blinked, feeling her pulse hitting a hard stop in his arms. "...She's dead," he said ungracefully, too shocked to approach the matter in any other way.

The room fell into silence before Kyle shook his head, reaching up and grabbing her off him by the shoulders. "No, no, no, no, no," he said frantically, laying her down onto the carpet and turning her head. He sneered, grabbing the shard from her throat and tearing it out, ignoring the blood spouting from the wound. "Cartman, keep count," he ordered, throwing the damning mirror aside, ignoring the brittle _crack_ as it broke against the wall with his force. Perching up on his knees and linking his hands together over Bebe's chest, he gritted his teeth. "Out loud," he added, his palms pressing down, feeling Bebe's ribs bending and swallowing a throatful of sobs at her limp state.

The room watched him in a dumbfounded trance, not sure whether to stop him, too busy hoping it would somehow be her _miracle_ cure. Cartman's lips barely parted as he counted, Kyle too focused on keeping his rhythm in tempo and his mind racing with self-criticisms.

He should've gotten someone with stronger arms to do this, he realized as he continued leaning his full body weight against her. His eyes closed and he nearly flinched at the clear sound of bone snapping beneath his hands.

"You're making her worse!" Token shouted, on the precipice of vomiting at the sound of ribs crackling like twigs.

"They do that!" he hissed, sweat dotting his forehead as he tried to keep pace, hearing Cartman hitting a mumbled twenty-one and taking a shaking breath. Almost there, then a two-second break and then right back up. He could do this, he could save her. He could get her breathing and they could get her _out_ and to a hospital. Then they could take her home and they would spend the rest of the summer doing lowkey things and keeping her happy. This was going to be fine. It _had to be_.

"Thirty," Cartman reached, halfway through the next count before seeing Kyle was up and off, twisting to her head.

Kyle tilted her chin and pinched her nose, saying the quickest prayer he'd ever uttered. Taking a deep breath and pressing against her mouth, he exhaled into her before jerking away with a yelp at a warmth spurting out of her throat and dropping onto his face and shoulder like a bitter summer rain.

"Oh god," Stan worked out, turning away and clasping his hand over his mouth, quickly making his way to Wendy's horrified stillness and grabbing around her. Kenny handed her frozen form over and watched Kyle frantically grab the pillowcase and ball it up, pressing it against her gash and pinching her nose again. He tried another long breath through her iron-tainted mouth, stopping and looking down at the blood so easily making its way through the cloth to wrap menacingly around his fingers.

"No. NO!" he shouted, jaw trembling, trying to figure out how to do this, if he could find some goddamn _duct tape_ or _sew up_ the wound or-

He stopped with a thick hand roughly shoving him back, looking up through burning, teary eyes to find Cartman giving him nothing more than a solemn shake of his head. He wanted to scream at him for taking away precious seconds, wanted to slam his bloodied fist into his face… But he knew better, much as he _hated himself_ for admitting it. Instead, he meekly followed Cartman's dictation for him to sit back on his calves, too disheartened and defeated to fight. Eight sets of eyes locked down at the still form laid out on the hotel floor, the world now seeming so eerily quiet and empty without the sound of gurgling, bloodied breaths.


	8. Chapter 8

Shock could take a variety of forms.

Clyde had bawled for three days straight after his mother had died. When Stan's grandpa finally hit his end, he found himself laughing hysterically at the funeral, emotions unable to sort themselves into any other more _appropriate_ outlet.

Token, however, launched straight into the ugly end of the spectrum once it came toppling down. Bebe was gone. _Gone_. And not how they'd planned, not in the way that they'd be able to message each other and hope the other would be around and available their next time simultaneously in town. That was destroyed, decimated in a macabre blizzard of glass. He looked at fingers that not even an hour prior had stroked along his chest, hair stained merlot that was as golden as the glow she seemed to carry around her. Trails of blood leaked from eyes he knew he'd see for the rest of his life, such a pretty, _unique_ concoction of olive and tawny, sprinkled with flakes of a burning amber. He wondered if the color was there anymore, if they'd dulled from the lively forest into nothing but the scarce ashes of what once had been.

His chest heaved, dark eyes wide and hands shaking, unable to hear the small chorus of cries surrounding him. He didn't take note of Craig and Cartman shedding no tears but seeming nothing short of _ghastly_ at what'd occurred before them. He didn't see Wendy hiding her face in Stan's chest and sobbing hysterically, couldn't comment on how out-of-character it seemed for her to be so broken in one fell swoop. He didn't see Kenny beating his fist against his arm through heavy sniffles, redirecting the anger and the hurt onto himself, somehow finding himself taking a portion of the blame.

No. Token saw his dead girlfriend, and the bloodstained boy staring at her with tears trailing down his cheeks, shaking so terribly he could've moved the room. Something snapped, emotional _agony_ directing into a burning ball of rage in his chest, a pressure on his stomach, _vengeance_ in his stare. Before anyone could stop him, before he himself caught wind of what he was doing, he took three long steps in stride towards the three on the floor, hand reaching out. Fingers quickly found themselves through disheveled red curls and Kyle yelped as he was ripped onto his feet, arms still aching and having trouble finding his air in the chaos. Green eyes flickered up and widened, unable to calculate how to move before a furious fist found its way to his cheekbone and sent him flying back, falling and hitting his head on the edge of the mattress in his descent. He fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, curling instinctively, body preparing for a follow-up it didn't know how to respond to in his devastation.

The others snapped into attention, Craig and Clyde running over and grabbing Token before he started another approach towards a shocked Kyle. "YOU FUCKING KILLED HER!" he screamed, breath staggering and eyes welling at last.

Kenny dove to Kyle's side, holding around him protectively. Kyle took no notice of his presence, his jaw trembling as he came from his defensive shell. "What did you _expect me_ to do?!" he demanded, voice cracking. "I-I… I didn't-"

"You fucking took the glass out!" he screeched, trying to break from his friends' hold on his arms and waist.

Ken shook his head, gripping tighter around Kyle's trembling form. "Token, he did what he could," he managed to say steadily. "He did _everything_ he could."

Token sneered, trying again to approach before Craig shook him, his head bobbing painfully through his pounding skull. "McCormick's _right_ ," he snapped. "She was gone _before_ Broflovski took out the glass." Token came to a full stop with someone saying it aloud, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a muffled, heartbroken scream. His legs buckled, Clyde and Craig keeping him upright and watching him miserably.

"I didn't know what… else to do…" Kyle whispered, looking at the corpse beside him and choking out a sob, turning and hiding his face in Kenny's shoulder. Kenny shuddered, wrapping tighter around him and pulling him further from the deceased, the back of his hand trembling as he tried to wipe splattered blood from Kyle's cheek and shoulder. Holding back a gag, he found himself staring into a crimson smear masking an array of freckles along Kyle's exposed upper arm, blue eyes distant in the vague hope this was a nightmare gone horrifically wrong.

The air was thick, smelled of iron and salted misery. With a heavy breath, Cartman fumbled raising himself onto his feet, unable to tear his eyes from the stains on Bebe's cheeks. He wondered if she'd throw a fit if she could see herself so pallid, if she'd shove someone aside to get into the bathroom to mar her face with bronzer and blush. She'd always been the one to whip out a compact in every class, had sneaking a coating of nude lipstick during geography down to an art. She needed something darker now, he noted. He'd seen girls with lips of scarlets and plums, maybe that could help her look more lively.

The room came to attention as Wendy tore herself finally from Stan and his gurgling nausea. Her breathing was rasping, sounding down to a mere half a lung that permitted itself to function. Feet covered in simple beige flats made their way in timidity towards her fallen best friend, shoulders quivering enough for her back to stiffen and ache. She stood in front of a sobbing Token, gray eyes caught in a blank stare at Bebe's mutilated face. Tracing along her cheekbones, the overhead light sparked in the shards still on her face, cruelly giving the façade of simplistic joy. Of Halloween parties where Bebe would cake her face in 'fairydust' for her usual pixie costume and regret it the next day. "She… she hates glitter," she mumbled, legs wobbling and torso swaying. Seasick, that's what this was. Caught in a tide of blood and on a raft constructed of only loss and bitterness. Up and down they went, up and down, up and down.

The tears came harder down her cheeks, coughing on her words. "She hates it, she hates it, she _hates it_!" she screamed, everyone looking up and gawking at her, lost with Wendy of all people so skewed out of her sound-minded self. "She can't get it off, she needs it _off_!" she screeched, hands coming up and long nails digging through thick hair, pulling down on handfuls. "Oh _god_ ," she sobbed, legs finally giving and letting her fall onto her knees at Bebe's side, a hand worming its way down from its follicle prison and gripping a lifeless palm. She needed her bracelet, Wendy sniffled. Needed that bracelet that she'd given Bebe for her sweet sixteen, the one that she only took off to sleep. Did this count as sleep? She didn't want it lost when she tossed and turned, did that qualify here? Would Bebe be mad if Wendy got it for her?

Her head shot over at a hand on her shoulder, looking to see Kenny kneeling beside her and rubbing at the bone. His mouth opened a bit, trying to find the words but stopping short. There was nothing to say here. There were no words. Clichés of comfort, _"she's in a better place",_ or _"at least she knew she wasn't alone"_ seemed nothing short of _callous_ here. A shaking breath raked through him as he pulled Wendy in for a hug. "Glitter sucks," he finally said.

Wendy bowed her head on his shoulder, refusing to relinquish Bebe's limp hand as she cried against his neck.

Token finally pushed Clyde and Craig off, sniffling and running the back of his hand under his nose. He looked from their display to Kyle, waiting for him to feel the stare and return it. His lip quivered, "Why'd you pull it out?"

Kyle's entire body slumped, so on-the-spot in an accusation it was enough to cripple him. "I tried," he repeated through a stressed whisper. "I didn't… I-I didn't _know_ what to do… _I'm sorry_ ," he clasped around himself, nails digging into his arms and head dropping in shame.

Craig shook his head, "Broflovski, it isn't your fault." He looked up at Token and his lips fell into a straight, controlled line. "Token, what happened?"

He gulped, running his hand along his neck and through his hair, rocking back and forth. "I-I don't know. She… there was a crash and… s-she screamed… Ran in…" he trailed off, jerking violently from Clyde putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He coughed, fighting the parade of tears with the heel of his palms, eyes straining to keep focused through their pulsing.

Cartman narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking from the bloodied mess at his feet, to the bathroom, to Token. "Or did you run in and _then_ there was a crash?" he demanded.

Token's head shot up and over, jaw tremoring and eye twitching. _"What?"_ he whispered emptily.

"Mirrors don't just _explode,_ Token. You bash her face into it and play the fuckin' actor?"

Shock turned back into a vicious rage, Token's teeth clattering and chest heaving. "I didn't fucking touch her!" he shouted, everyone flinching at the utter fury in his tone. "I was on the fucking BED!" he pointed to the disheveled covers.

Kyle wiped at bloodshot eyes, nodding, "No way it was that," he mumbled, gripping onto the edge of the mattress for stance. "Too much… glass on the floor. None in the sink almost that… that I saw… I think…" he shook his head, thoughts jumbling and exertion finally catching up to him in the midst of adrenaline, meeting with a jarring collision.

Cartman's lips twisted, turning on his heel and heading into the bathroom, poking his head into the lighted space and glancing towards the counter. His eyes narrowed, looking at the wide vanity area bereft of more than a light shower of slivers. "The fuck," he muttered, carefully stepping through the mess of the tile and making way towards the exposed wall lying beneath the track bulbs. Pudgy fingers pressed against the middle of the space, head cocking in confusion.

"Anything?" a warbling voice came from behind him, not giving so much as a glance as Clyde stepped beside him, sniveling all the way.

He shook his head, running his fingers along the drywall. "Nothing," he said blankly. Not so much as a swelling or a crack. He glanced to the opposite wall, eyes fluttering rapidly at visible scratches along the painted wall. The glass crinkled under his slippers as he stepped closer, head leaning in and gaping in astonishment at clear indentations and shards dug into the surface. "How the _fuck_."

Clyde bent down beside him, jaw dropping in the slightest. "H-how'd it do that?" he asked, head whipping between both sides. "Wouldn't t-the other wall be fucked up?!"

"Yeah," he said simply, standing back up straight. It was a strange feeling, one he'd only had a handful of times in his life. It was ominous, frightening in a surreal manner. There had to be _some_ explanation. Fuck all if he knew what it could be, though. He grunted, waving for Clyde to follow him back out into the fray, looking down at Kenny brushing shards off Bebe's face with his free hand, the other holding Wendy's head.

Craig heaved a long, somber sigh, eyes pained and scrunching. Someone had to stay level-headed here. He could deal with his own frustrations on the matter later, he and Cartman were the only ones not drowning themselves. "We have to call the police," he worked out.

Token gulped, looking back at him and shaking his head, "None of the phones I found worked."

He squinted, "Wait, what?"

"A-all of 'em are like, broken," he winced. "Or at least mine and… a-and Bebe's. Plus Ken and Kyle's."

Craig stared at him, trying to take in the enormity of the statement. "Mine and Tweek's weren't working either. Gotta be this fuckin' building's wiring."

Kyle glanced up, brow cocking. "Mine and Ken's weren't even _plugged in_. We hadn't gotten around to taking care of that before my headache and all this happening."

Stan stood up straight at long last, swallowing another fit of bile and digging his thumbnail into his palm. "We need to get out of here. We can _drive_ to the cops. But there's some… _shield_ that won't let us out. Me, Ken, and Token couldn't break through it."

"Shield?" Clyde repeated, waterlogged eyes narrowing. He got nothing more than a baffled shrug from Stan, far beyond the point of putting together more than simplistic comprehensive statements.

"Then we _all_ need to try," Craig decided, blowing by the strange notion. "We can't stay here."

Wendy's breathing was ragged, turning to look up at him with a trembling jaw. "We can't leave her alone," she croaked.

Cartman shook his head, "Wendy, if Token ain't lyin', then this place could keep blowin' the fuck up. We gotta get out."

"But-"

Kenny stopped her with a soft _"shh",_ helping her maneuver back onto her shaking legs. "They're right," he emphasized, gently moving her to pass back to Stan who immediately wrapped her into his arms. Kenny and Kyle shared an exhausted, heartbroken look, Kyle tugging on the sheet of the bed and getting an agreeing nod. Carefully, Ken made his way around Bebe, assisting Kyle in hauling off the blended fabric to lightly drape over Bebe. They all cringed as it contoured to her form, none of them quite sure if they'd bettered the situation or made it more _final_.

"Let's go," Craig broke all their stares, beginning to move to guide people to turn towards the door with Cartman. Kenny shook himself into attention, gripping Kyle by the shoulders and beginning to move him forward. Token still stood in their path, stock still as he stared at the body he was so familiar with blanketed like that. She hated covers on her face, he thought brokenly. Hated how breath bounced back into her face like a summer thunderstorm humidity. The only thing Bebe truly _hated_ was humidity after all; it made her hair go absolutely out-of-line. He looked up at last with movement in his peripheral, catching gazes with Kyle's bloodshot eyes. He didn't so much as notice Kenny's hands tightening around him, how he was ready to shove him out of the way if Token snapped again.

Kyle had no such thoughts, merely shaking his head in disbelief and grief. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Token felt that string of rage once more before it was extinguished, shoved down with a brief, staunch reminder of Kyle's friendly familiarity with Bebe. There was no conceivable malice he could deduce from this. He knew Kyle wouldn't have goddamn _slacked_ or purposefully hurt her. But it was so much easier to just find the fault _somewhere_ when a damn exploding mirror just didn't seem a _good enough_ reasoning.

Dark eyes shifted from blame to sorrow, Kenny watching tentatively. "C'mon," he urged, moving one of his hands to place on Token's upper arm and encouraging him to turn. Token stole another glance at the body seeping blood through the sheet and he coughed as his lungs constricted, allowing Kenny to get him away from an image he knew he'd never lose.

The silence and yellow lighting of the hallway seemed damning, the group was sluggish as they trekked their way to the stairs. _"A procession_ ," Stan thought miserably. It'd been like this in his house after his grandfather had died. But that had the _comfort_ of knowing it was coming. They'd had _months_ to prepare themselves for his inevitable loss. Here, though… Shock didn't seem to even _begin_ to cover it. How were they even going to _handle this_? How would they tell Bebe's parents? What would they tell the fucking _cops?_

Wendy had to keep a taut hold on Stan's arm, wobbling her way down each stair. Walking and breathing seemed surreal, the winding mess of the musty hotel seemed to stretch and bubble around her. She wondered if she'd ever felt like this before, if _anything_ had dashed hope for the future so viciously. She was more than prepared to have Bebe _move away_ , knowing that she was only a phone call or text from a comforting pep talk. But now what? She lost her _sister_ , the _one_ person she went to for everything. She'd always prided herself on keeping her head straight, on being one of the ones to logically and calmly walk them through a situation. But here… She doubted she'd be able to make sense of just about anything.

Craig and Clyde followed behind them, watching Wendy's shoulders heaving and Stan's methodical stroking along her arm. Craig glanced at Clyde, still trying and failing to hold himself together. It was a habit their group had long since weaned him off: Crying at most _everything_ that went wrong. He could recall that last one before they started helping him redirect his overactive emotions. A day in seventh grade after he'd dropped a cup of Pepsi onto a rug that his late mother had been adamant about keeping clean of any kind of debris. He'd absolutely lost it, Craig, Token, Tweek, and Jimmy trying in vain for nearly two hours to stabilize him. It'd been a long goddamn night, trying to figure out what made him react like that so often and coming up with empty answers, suggesting alternative outlets so he wasn't pulling this _all_ the time.

" _You gotta f-f-find when it's approp… appropri-… app-pro… gotta find when it's appropriate,"_ Jimmy had advised.

Craig wonders if Jimmy could've saved this situation in some way. He never minded taking the lead, was with Craig in that he knew Bebe, but not well enough to completely lose his senses over this mess. An editorial internship with the local paper had prevented him from being able to tag along, and Craig wished they'd _all_ had some prior obligation. This level of disaster far outweighed goddamn _years'_ worth of vacation.

He glanced towards Clyde as they rounded down the third flight and began their descent towards the second. Clyde was wobbling, eyes that awful shade of bloodshot pink and nose trying to stop its rampant running. Craig offered no more than a silent, steadying hand on his shoulder, feeling the hiccups of lost breath through his t-shirt. This was a more than appropriate setting for this, Craig decided, feeling his own heart aching and stomach twisting. Well-acquainted or not, he'd still _known her_ since preschool. It was a strange feeling, an emptiness he couldn't quite grasp. Maybe it was just a distant grief. Maybe it was influenced by the mess of such stark emotions surrounding him. He wasn't sure, he didn't know if he _wanted_ a definitive answer. He just wanted them to get the fuck out of here.

Cartman's face sat in a firm glare behind them, determined not to waver. He couldn't claim heartbreak, that was for damn sure. All he could claim was _confusion_. There was no doubt he'd seen some _strange_ things in his life, they all had. Growing up in South Park had opened them to a world of baffling happenings and deus ex machinas galore. But this one felt… _different_. Perhaps it was merely the separation from home, growing up with the belief that the only _crazy_ things happened within their quiet little hometown, that everywhere else, there was a valid explanation and a reasonable conclusion to be reached. _"Maybe it's just us,"_ he pondered, brow furrowing further. Maybe they were being _punished_ , shown just what happens when they leave home. Maybe God was sending a fucking message that they were straying too far, they were _supposed_ to be born there, grow there, stay there, die there. Seemed to be the routine of their families, people who got there never left for good. Maybe that was why, maybe they _knew_ something was afoot in the outside world, that it wouldn't treat them and their dilemmas with the same leniency they'd grown accustomed to.

He shook his head. Or maybe they were all just magnets for trouble no matter where they went. Didn't necessarily have to be the setting. Maybe home and its terrible misfortunes just liked to fucking follow them, stuck to them like cigar smoke. They'd all long-since abandoned the notion that they were like the kids they saw on television. They couldn't relate on such profound levels to typical high school drama, too busy having it interspersed with weekly mass hysterias to be resolved.

He, Stan, Kenny, and Kyle had had many a marijuana-fueled discussion on the matter. Almost every session they had together seemed to circle back towards it, usually propelled by Stan's routine cynicism creeping back up whenever he was high. The last time had been only the week prior, the four of them sprawled around Stan's living room after his parents had left for a weekend getaway. Cartman remembered little of what occurred before, only he and Stan complaining at Kyle and Kenny's insistence at sluggishly pawing at one another until Cartman had kicked Kyle over atop a half-eaten box of cookies.

Stan had whined, mourning the loss of his next snickerdoodle and launching straight into how nothing in their town ever went right. Kyle had just laughed, barely managing to pull himself back upright before flopping down over Kenny's lap and proclaiming that he was wrong, some things were _definitely_ going right, getting a happy set of pets through his hair and an empty can of soda hurled at his head. It went the route it always did, trying to argue the good things before inevitably all settling and realizing that yeah, it was fucked up, and they were usually caught in the middle of it all.

It was one of the few things they all could eventually agree on, Stan groaning of opportunity lost, himself bitching about the work they had to put in to keep the town together, Kenny making awful jokes that were barely comprehensible regarding their unusually high percentage of alcoholics, and Kyle giving his typical philosophical dissertation while the remainder nodded their heads at his points.

Cartman subtly twisted his head to Token, Kenny, and Kyle bringing up the rear, his eyes landing on Kyle who couldn't seem to blink away from the stains on his fingers. He wondered if any amount of goddamn weed could get him to figure this one out. If he'd be able to calmly pick apart the elements and gain a theory on why things went the way they did. He doubted it, knew that this one just hit too close for Kyle to be much more than an emotionally-driven disaster. Glancing at Kenny didn't seem to bode much better, his face torn between absolute misery and concern at his boyfriend's refusal to do anything more than watch the blood dry on the lines of his palms.

Token couldn't look towards Kyle, forcing himself to keep straight-on, to not see the damning evidence of what was done. His breath shook as they made way at long last down the last set of stairs, keeping his focus on the sound of covered feet lightly plodding against the thin carpet. This all just seemed impossible, caught in a collective nightmare brought on by too many hours spent cramped in Clyde's van. He wished, oh _God_ did he wish that was the case. That he'd wake up and Bebe would be there, laugh at him as he frantically explained what he'd seen and get reassurance that she was completely _fine_. Tears still trailed down his cheeks without his notice, eyes bleary as he blinked through a rampant burning. He flinched at a half-hearted reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, looking over to see the utter exhaustion and heartbreak of Kenny's eyes.

This was all just too much. Too much at once. Too many questions and too many details to figure out that he didn't want to so much as _think_ about starting.

He nearly stumbled as they reached the landing of the first floor, the lobby eerily stoic sans the nearly silent hum of the ventilation.

"Come on," Craig's voice startled them all back into frigid reality, eyes moving to set on the glass front door into the foyer. Craig took the lead, moving towards the door and rapping his fist again the pane, eyes narrowing at a series of violet ripples emitting from his touch. "What the actual shit," he said, voice empty with bewilderment.

"See?" Stan said through a wavering breath. "Fuckin'… it's some kind of _force field._ "

"That doesn't make any sense," he said looking back at him with narrowed eyes. His gaze shifted to Kyle, mouth twisting at the lack of any kind of response, nothing more than still stuck staring at his tainted hands. "Broflovski. Theories?"

Kyle blinked at his name, looking up and squinting. "What?" Craig's mouth twisted in annoyance, repeating his knock against the door and watching Kyle's face screw up. "I… What the _fuck_ ," he mumbled, finally breaking from Kenny's hold and walking up beside of Craig, slamming his bloodied palm against the pane to watch the ripple radiate from his touch. "It's cold," he commented.

"Well it _is_ glass and it _is_ nighttime, Kahl," Cartman rolled his eyes.

He looked back at him, Cartman nearly recoiling at the stony glaze over his eyes. "It's not _that_ kind of cold."

Craig nodded in agreement, "He's right. It's like…" he struggled, looking for the words.

"A breezy cold," Kyle finished, getting another nod. It didn't feel _right_. The air outside was far too hot and the air conditioning of the building wasn't nearly powerful enough to knock the temperature down to such an airy, pointed chill. He tore his attention from the anomaly, scanning around the lobby and his eyes set on a couch under a high egress window, narrowing. "Get the couch. We're breaking this fucker down," he decided, moving towards it before getting so much as a sliver of agreement.

Clyde wiped his nose with the back of his hand, looking to see Craig, Cartman, Stan, and Kenny moving to follow his lead. "Guys, are you sure that's a good-"

"I'll fucking _buy them_ another door, Clyde!" Kyle snapped. "We gotta get the cops!" Clyde cringed, trailing along behind him guiltily. Wendy and Token remained in their spaces, blankly watching the six of them maneuver the couch from the wall and bend down to grip under the hanging trim.

"Ready?" Stan asked, getting a short, somber nod from the rest of them. "All right, one, two, _three_ ," he said, all of them grunting as they lifted the couch up towards their waists.

"Fuckin' hell, is it made of gold?" Kenny hissed, struggling to keep a grip with Kyle alongside the back.

Craig huffed from the end with Clyde, "More weight to bust it down."

They awkwardly made their way through the lobby towards the door, trying to keep their steps in-sync as they shuffled their way back until Craig and Clyde's backs hit the front desk. Cartman moved from the opposite arm, making his way to Stan's side along the front of the sofa.

"On three," Stan said, the others nodding, squinting at the pressure of their fingers under the heavy furniture. He waited a beat, letting them all catch a breath before barking out a stout "Three!"

The six of them pressed forward, clumsily trying to keep pace with one another as they rushed for the door. They tensed as they neared the pane, eyes widening at the violet hue picking up before they made contact. As the arm slammed into the barrier, it didn't budge so much as an inch before the color ricocheted back against the couch, sending the six of them tumbling backwards. They all fell to the floor in a heap, Kenny and Kyle managing to roll from the falling sofa and Cartman slipping and tripping to the side.

Two loud yells broke them from their shock, everyone looking towards Stan and Craig both hissing and cursing up a storm. Stan groaned, his left leg trapped under the wooden couch frame and trying to push it off. Craig wasn't faring better, on his back with his right arm crushed under the weight, free hand scratching at the beige fabric. "FUCK!" he shouted, trying to rip his arm from the pain and feeling the splintered wood tearing at his flesh.

"Shit, _shit_ , get it off 'em!" Kenny shouted, the uninjured four struggling onto their feet to grab back under the sofa. They groaned, lifting it just enough to let them slide their limbs from the danger before the couch was dropped back onto the ground with a damning thud against the thin carpet. Stan pulled his leg back against him protectively, barely noticing Kenny and Kyle hopping over the back of the couch to look at his injuries.

"Stan? You okay?" Kyle asked.

"NO!" he shouted. "My fuckin' ankle twisted, FUCK!"

Kenny peered over the side towards Craig behind helped by Clyde, looking at his torn arm and wincing at a long gash riding down through the skin. "Jesus. Tucker, you all right?"

"FanTASTIC, MCCORMICK!" he snapped, hissing and grabbing at the scrape, blood leaking down through his fingers.

Kyle glanced up from looking at Stan's bruising ankle, jaw shaking as he looked back towards the door and gulped. "Something isn't right."

"Gee, ya _think so,_ Jew?" Cartman rolled his eyes, kneeling to see Stan's leg. "Can you walk, Marsh?"

He hissed through his teeth, Kyle moving to help stabilize him as he tried to maneuver back onto his feet. Kyle slowly followed him up with a guiding hand on his back, Stan stumbling as he got back upright, eyes clenched shut as he pressed weight down on his injured ankle. "Yeah," he finally breathed, bending his knee to test more pressure. "Hurts like a bitch, though."

"I bet," he muttered, shaking his head and looking back towards the door. "So, what the fuck is with that thing? It a damn shield?"

"Apparently," Kenny frowned. "Someone wants to keep us in."

Craig groaned, getting back onto his feet still clutching his arm. "Fucking _who_?"

"I don't know, Craig, fucking Cthulhu?! We're all as lost as you are, Man."

"Ken, calm _down_ ," Kyle said, putting a hand on his arm. "We need to figure this out. And Craig, we gotta fix up your arm."

He rolled his eyes, "It's fine, Broflovski, it's a damn scratch-"

"This ISN'T THE TIME for you to play SuperCraig, Dickfuck!" he snapped.

Token shook himself from his trance, moving towards the group of them and looking at Craig's arm, shuddering at the familiar color. "He's right," he said, everyone's head shooting towards him. "We… we've had enough… blood tonight," he croaked, eyes squeezing shut and Kenny immediately offering him another comforting shoulder touch.

Craig muttered under his breath, moving to work his t-shirt off and around his arm. Kyle stepped forward, helping him tie it around the wound and wincing at the pressure pressing into the bone. "Do you think Tweek and Stotch are all right?" he asked.

Kyle paused, looking at him and seeing the worry hiding under gray eyes and took a shaking breath. "I um… We need to find out," he finally said, gulping down his own batch of panic at the idea of the two of them wandering off and alone in this hellhole. If the door wasn't going to budge, they needed to figure something else out. Getting the stragglers had to be a priority if things were looking to be this batshit, he decided. He finished tying off Craig's arm, looking at Wendy walking beside of them to give Stan a reassuring hug. "All right," he said, straightening up and holding back a distressed sniffle. "Groups of four. Me, Ken, Stan, and Wends will take the right hall," he pointed towards the distant corridor. "Rest of you take the left. No one split up for ANY reason. Got it?"

"Who made _you_ Jew captain?" Cartman snapped.

Kyle bared his teeth, looking back at him in fury. "Anyone got any _better_ ideas? Or should we just fucking _sit here_ and _hope_ the problem solves itself?!"

Cartman opened his mouth, shut down by the remainder of the group glaring at him in challenge. He crossed his arms, huffing. "Fine. Let's just fucking get out of here." There was a collective nod, Craig, Clyde, and Token moving towards the left hall.

Cartman moved to go with them, stopped by a strong fist wrapped around his sleeve. He looked down to see Kyle glaring at him, tugging him down closer to his level. "You watch your _fuckin'_ fat mouth around Token," he warned. "This is NOT the time for you to be your asshole self."

He glared, ripping his shirt back and straightening up, giving him a sneer. "I'm not _that_ fucking insensitive. Fucking Jew," he spat, moving and quickly plodding off to follow after his group.

Stan looked at the four of them remaining as they seemed so broken and lost, feeling his leg and ankle throbbing and taking a long, steadying breath. "C'mon," he said, getting their attention on him as he motioned towards the left hallway. "Let's find 'em."

* * *

"H-hello?" Butters called out yet again, knocking on another door and placing his ear against the wooden plank. He squinted, listening for anything outside of the air conditioning and coming up empty. He sighed, his knuckles rubbing together anxiously, pulsing from his constant fretting and knocking.

"Gee, where _is_ everyone?" he pondered, looking back down the hall and cringing. It seemed to stretch on forever. Certainly didn't _look_ this big from the outside… "Just tired," he told himself, rubbing at his left eye and heaving another laden sigh. He stepped to the door across the way, repeating his knock and call, grimacing at yet another bout of silence. Someone _had_ to have heard him at _some_ point, right?

No time to dawdle, he decided. They needed to get Bebe help. He moved forward to the next adjacent set, coming to a stop at a flitter of movement in his gaze. He blinked, finding himself staring at a bird standing in the middle of the corridor, staring at him. Butters shuddered, seeing nothing but black, beady eyes watching him intensely. A long gulp fell down his throat, unnerved by the unwavering attention from such a strange happenstance. "H-hi there, little birdie," he tried. "How'd ya get in here?"

The bird stared for another moment longer, Butters flinching at the distant sound of creaking pervading the silent walkway. The bird turned, hopping twice before taking flight and darting in through a cracked-open door.

Butters stared in stunned silence, waiting for someone to walk out of the room. He squinted, seeing a soft, white light emanating from the opening. "Hello?" he called, taking a few cautious steps forward. "Anyone there? M-my friend needs some help!"

Silence, and the light grew stronger. Butters blinked, seeing it giving soft pulses to match his racing heartbeat.

He took a long breath, puffing out his chest and moving his way down the hall, finding himself in front of the doorway and staring into utter darkness with nothing but a few hovering lights drawing him in. They called to him, it seemed. Hearing not his name, not words, but a beckoning of calm.

Butters gulped, putting his hand on the doorknob and pushing it open. "Hello?" he repeated, gaining nothing but more pulsing lights. His head turned, hearing the flapping of heavy wings lingering in the darkness.

With yet another long, deep breath. He answered the call, and stepped forward into the room.


End file.
